• 


PRESERVING 

MR.  PANMURE 


PRESERVING 

MR.  PANMURE 


A     COMIC     PLAY 
fl  n     jfour    Bets 


BY 
ARTHUR    W.    PINERO 


CHICAGO 
THE  DRAMATIC  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


COSTRiGHT,  19.1O,  .by  ABfTHtJR  PlNBRO 


ft? 


This  play  was  produced  in 
London, at  theComedyTheatre, 
on  Thursday,  January  19, 
1911;  and  in  New  York,  at 
the  Lyceum  Theatre,  on 
Tuesday,  February  27,  1912. 


331055 


THE  PERSONS  OF  THE  PL  A  Y 

THE  RIGHT  HON.  REGINALD  STULKELY,  M.P. 
TALBOT  WOODHOUSE  (His  private  secretary) 
ST.  JOHN  PANMURE,  J.P. 
ALFRED  HEBBLETHWAITE,  M.P. 
HUGH  LORING 

BRABNER  ) 

KlTTS         \    Cutler  and  footman  at  "  The  delivers  ") 

GRANT  (Servant  at  Mr.  Stuikeley'i) 

MRS.  PANMURB 

MYRTLE  (Her  daughter) 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE  (A*/v.  Panmure's  aunt] 

DULCIE  ANSTICE  (Mrs.   Panmure's  sister) 

Miss  STULKE'LEY 

JOSEPHA   QUARENDON 


The  scene  is  laid  first  at  "  The  Clenvers,  "  To  Us  hunt  d^Arcy, 
near  Polehampton,  and  afterwards  at  Mr.  Stulkeley's  house 
in  London. 

The  curtain  will  be  lowered  for  a  moment  in  the  course  of 
the  Second  Act. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

THE  FIRST  ACT 

The  scene  is  the  inner  hall  of  a  house  in  the  country. 
The  walls  are  panelled,  the  lack  wall  elbow^high 
in  wood,  the  rest  of  it  in  glass.  In  the  centre 
of  this  wall  is  a  double-door,  also  glazed.  From 
about  seven  feet  from  the  ground,  a  silk  hang- 
f%Jfc  ing  covers  the  glazed  panels  of  the  back  wall 

and  of  the  door;  and  above  the  hanging  there  is 
a  vieiv  of  a  broad  corridor,  of  a  door  in  the  wall 
on  the  further  side  of  the  corridor,  and  of  two 
staircases — one  on  the  right,  the  other  on  1ha 
left — ascending  to  the  upper  floors. 

In  the  wall  on  the  left  is  the  fireplace,  and 
between  the  fireplace  and  the  back  wall  there  ?'.<? 
a  single  door  opening  from  an  adjoining  room. 
In  the  right-hand  wall,  opposite  the  fireplace,  is 
a  bay-window  over  which  the  curtains  are 
drawn.  A  writing-table  and  chair  stand  in  the 
bay,  and  beyond  the  recess  are  a  handsome 
chamber-organ,  a  music-stool  and,  near-by,  a 
brass  lectern.  Also  on  the  right  are  a  round 
table,  a  settee  facing  the  fireplace,  and  two 
chairs.  . 

On  the  left,  by  the  fireplace,  a  second  settee 
fronts  the  spectator.  Behind  this  settee  are  a 
small  table  and  a  chair;  on  the  right  of  it,  an 
arm-chair  and  a  fauteuil-stool.  Another  arm- 


2  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

chair  stands  close  to  the  fireplace,  at  the  nearer 
side;  and  against  the  back  wall,  between  the 
door  in  the  centre  and  the  wall  on  the  left,  is  a 
third  settee. 

The  corridor  is  lighted  by  a  large  pendent 
lamp.  Except  for  the  light  coming  from  this 
lamp,  and  for  the  flicker  of  the  fire,  the  room 
is  in  darkness. 

[Note:  Throughout,  "right"  and  "left" 
are  the  spectators'  right  and  left,  not  the 
actor's:] 

[Mus.  HEBBLETHWAITE  and  DULCIE 
ANSTICE  are  seated  by  the  fire,  MRS. 
HEBBLETHWAITE  upon  the  settee, 
DULCIE  in  the  arm-chair  between  the 
settee  and  the  fauteuil-stool.  They  are 
dozing.  Presently  DULCIE  rouses  her- 
self, yawns  violently,  and  rises.  Wan- 
dering to  the  window,  she  separates  the 
curtains  and  peeps  out. 
DULCIE. 

[A  handsome,  modish  young  lady  of  thirty-two.] 
Ugh! 

[MRS.  PANMURE  enters  at  the  door  on  the 
left,  carrying  some  letters.  She  is  a 
gentle,  sweet-looking  woman,  a  few  years 
older  than  DULCIE. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
In  the  dark!  [She  switches  on  the  light. 

DULCIE. 
[Leaving  the  window.]     Snowing. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  3 

MBS.  PANMURE. 

[Troubled.]  Yes,  and  Josey  Quarendon  is  out 
with  Myrtle. 

DULCIE. 

[Witheringly.]     She  would  be. 
MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Moving  to  the  fireplace.]     I'll  order  tea.     [Ring- 
ing.]    The  men  ought  to  be  back  by  five.     [To  MRS. 
HEBBLETHWAITE,  who  has  opened  her  eyes  and  is 
trying  to  look  wise.]    Have  I  disturbed  you,  auntie? 
MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[A  portly,  pleasant  lady  of  fifty.]  Disturbed  me, 
dear?  iSTot  in  the  least. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[To  DULCIE.]     Has  Hugh  arrived  yet? 

DULCIE. 
Hugh?    He's  not  due  till  dinner,  is  he? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

I  asked  him  to  come  early  and  dress  here.  I 
thought  you'd  be  glad  of  a  quiet  hour  or  two 
together. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

I've  just  been  telling  Dulcie  how  delighted  I  am 
with  Mr.  Loring. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
We  are  all  full  of  thanks  over  the  affair. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Absolutely  simple  and  amiable,  if  I'm  any  judge 
of  character ! 


4  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

DULCIE, 

Dear  old  Hughie  !  When  I've  enlarged  his  mental 
outlook  and  polished  him  up  generally— 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Mildly.}  Dulcie!  [BRABNER,  an  elderly  man- 
servant, enters  at  the  door  in  the  centre.  MRS. 
PANMURE  goes  to  him  and  gives  him  her  letters.] 
For  the  post. 

BRABNER. 
Yes,  m'm. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
And  yon  may  bring  tea  in  a  quarter-of-an-hour. 

BRABNER. 
Very  good,  .m'm. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Oh — Brabner 

BRABNER. 
Yes,  m'm? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

This  new  young  man — Kitts 

BRABNER. 
Albert  Kitts,  m'm — quite  a  nice,  capable  lad. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
I'm  sure  of  it.     But — Brabner — 

BRABNER. 
Yes,  m'm  ? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
He  was  absent  from  prayers  this  morning. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  5 

DULCIE. 

[Sitting  upon  the  settee  on  the  right — groaning 
inwardly.}     Oh! 

BRABNEK. 
[Surprised.}    Kitts  was,  m'm  ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Brabner ! 

BRABNER. 

[Coughing    behind    his    hand.]    Heugh,    heugh! 
Yes,  m'm,  I'm  aware. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
That  won't  do,  Brabner. 

BRABNER. 

No,  m'm,  that  won't  do  for  us. 
MRS.  PANMURE. 
Weren't  the  rules  of  the  house  explained  to  him? 

BRABNER. 

By  me  and  Mrs.   Meadows,   m'm — till  we  was 
'oarse,  as  you  might  say. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

\Pityingly.}   Poor  fellow!     I  leave  him  to  you, 
Brabner. 

BRABNER. 

I'll  have  him  in  to-night,   m'm,   if  it's  by  the 
scruff  of  his  neck. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Tli at  won't  be  necessary,  Brabner,  I  hope. 


6  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

BRABNER. 
In  these  demycratic  days,  m'm ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

The  only  true  equality,  Brabner,  is  when  we  are 
on  our  knees.  [Dismissing  him.]  Tea  at  five. 

BRABNER. 
Yes,  m'm.  [He  withdraws. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Looking  at  her  fingers.]  My  hands  are  steeped 
in  ink.  No,  no,  I  mustn't  exaggerate;  I've  slightly 
inked  my  middle  finger. 

[She  goes  out  at  the  door  in  the  centre  and 
ascends  the  stairs. 

DULCIE. 

[Reclining  upon  the  settee  on  the  right.]  Oh, 
lord,  Lottie's  too  good  for  this  world ! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Rising.]     If  there  were  more  like  her ! 

DULCIE. 

If  there  were  many  more  like  her,  the  stock  of 
halos  would  give  out.  She's  worse  than  ever. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

You  mean  better.  She  has  always  been  devoutly 
inclined,  dear  child. 

DULCIE. 
In   a   reasonable,   moderate   way.      But   now — ! 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  7 

Ouf!     Sometimes  I  anathematize  the  day  I  came 
to  live  with  Lottie  and  St.  John. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
It  has  got  you  a  husband,  at  any  rate. 
DULCIE. 

Yes,  and  the  only  decent  catch  in  the  neighbour- 
hood; I'm  not  oblivious  of  that.  [Thumping  a 
pillow.]  Oh,  but  we're  so  pious  here ! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Advancing  to  DULCIE.]    You'll  soon  be  out  of  it. 
DULCIE. 

I'm  not  to  be  married  till. June.  Five  more 
mortal  months!  [Settling  herself.]  It's  all  this 
Mr.  Pruyn's  doing,  you  know — the  life  we've  been 
leading  at  The  Clewers  lately. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Sitting  at  the  round  table.]  The  new  rector  of 
Polehampton. 

DULCIE. 
The  man  who  dined  with  us  last  night. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Strongly  resembling  a  raven. 
DULCIE. 

The  Reverend  Mervyn  Pruyn.  My  sister  is  com- 
pletely at  his  feet. 


8  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

I  confess  I  should  never  have  thought  that  Lottie 
would  have  deserted  her  own  little  church  at 
Tollshunt. 

DULCIE. 

Poor  Mr.  Crispe  is  beating  his  venerable  brow 
over  it.  [Raising  herself  upon  her  elbow  to  face 
MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE.]  Aunt — 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Yes,  dear? 

DULCIE. 
Have  you  heard  of  the  Guild  of  Fine  Souls? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Guild  of— what? 

DULCIE. 
Fine  Souls. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Good  gracious ! 

DULCIE. 

It's  a  sort  of  Order  that  Pruyn  has  instituted  for 
pure  people.  Pruyn's  Pure  People !  Suggests  pink 
pills,  doesn't  it? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Reprovingly.]     Dulcie ! 

DULCIE. 
Lottie  is  the  first  to  be  admitted. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  9 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Quite  right. 

DULCIE. 

Didn't  you  spot  the  ornament  she  was  wearing  in 
her  dress  last  night? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Oh,  I  wondered 

DULCIE. 

That  was  it — the  badge.  The  design  is  a  pair  of 
wings  sprouting  out  of  a  heart. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Eather  a  pretty  idea. 

DULCIE. 

There  are  three  grades — first,  second,  and  third 
class.  The  first  gets  a  gilt  badge,  the  second  a  silver 
one,  the  third  copper.  [Pointing  a  warning  finger 
at  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE.]  You  take  jolly  good 
care  you're  not  nominated  during  your  stay  here. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Nominated  ? 

DULCIE. 

By  Lottie.  The  holder  of  a  First  Class  badge  has 
the  privilege  of  nominating  three  Fine  Souls  for  the 
Guild.  [Putting  Tier  feet  to  the  ground.}  How- 
ever, there's  one  consolation. 


io  PRESERVING  MR.  PAN  MURE 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Consolation  ? 

DULCIE. 
[Tidying  her  hair.]     I'm  in  no  danger. 

MKS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Dulcie,  for  shame ! 

DULCIE. 

[Listening.]       Sssli !       [Dropping     her    voice.] 
Don't  you  chaff  her  about  it,  though. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Chaff  her!    As  if ! 

[MBS.  PANMURE  has  descended  the  stairs  and 
now  re-enters  at  the  door  in  the  centre. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

What  are  you  two  talking  about? 
DULCIE. 

Er — [rising  and  going  to  the  fireplace]  the  new 
organ. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Standing  before  the  organ  in  admiration.]     Ah! 
Isn't  it  beautiful,  auntie  ? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Rising  and  joining  MRS.  PANMURE.]     Beautiful. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  n 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

A  great  improvement  on  the  old  harmonium. 
MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

And  how  capitally  that  young  woman  of  }^ours 
plays  it. 

MRS.  PANMUBE. 
Caroline — my  maid. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
So  versatile  of  her  ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

She  hasn't  been  with  me  long.     She  came  with 
the  organ,  as  it  were. 

DULCIE. 

She's  a  rotten  maid. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[Pained.]     Dulcie! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Soothingly.]     Well,  you  can't  have  it  all  ways, 
can  you  ? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

No,  it's  such  a  rare  combination — a  maid  and  an 
organist. 

DULCIE. 

Oh,  I  admit,  when  she  gets  her  fingers  into  your 
hair,  you  know  she's  a  good  organist. 


12  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

[JOSEPHA  QUARENDON  enters  breathlessly  at 
the  door  in  the  centre,  pushing  MYRTLE 
before  her.  They  are  in  outdoor 
things,  which  are  powdered  with  snow. 
MYRTLE  is  so  enveloped  in  mufflers  and 
wraps  as  to  be  almost  entirely  concealed. 

JOSEPHA. 

[A  captivating,  light-hearted  young  lady  of  seven- 
and- twenty.]  Awfully  sorry!  Have  you  been 
anxious  about  us  ? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Hurrying  to  MYRTLE.]  Oh7  my  darling! 
[Going  down  on  her  knees  to  remove  MYRTLE'S 
outer  coverings.]  My  darling,  where  are  you? 

MYRTLE. 
[In  a  distant  voice.]    I  am  here,  mother. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Taking  MYRTLE'S  things,  one  by  one,  from  MRS. 
PANMURE.]  We  went  a  bit  further  than  I  intended. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
How  could  you,  Josey? 

JOSEPHA. 
It's  glorious  out  of  doors. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[As  MYRTLE  is  gradually  revealed.]  Oh — oh — 
oh 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  13 

MYETLE. 

[ A  wizen,  owlish  child  of  eleven,  with  a  prominent 
brotv  and  two  skimp  plaits  hanging  down  her  back.] 
I  beg  that  nobody  will  make  a  fuss.  It's  as  much  my 
fault  as  Josepha's. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

The  child's  nose  is  as  red  as  a  beetroot.  Look  at 
your  nose,  Myrtle. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Ah,  yes,  look  at  your  nose ! 

DULCIE. 
Myrtle,  do  look  at  your  nose. 

MYRTLE. 

[Squinting  horribly.]  How  can  I?  [With 
dignity.]  Surely  it  must  be  evident  to  you  all  that 
you  are  demanding  an  impossibility. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Burdened  with  MYRTLE'S  wraps,  etc.]  I'll  take 
her  upstairs. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
And  change  her  boots. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
And  stockings. 


i4  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

JOSEPHA. 

And  the  colour  of  her  nose.     [Merrily.]     Come 
along,  Myr.    Ha,  ha,  ha ! 

[  JOSEPHA  and  MYRTLE  go  out  at  the  door  in 
the  centre  and  mount  the  stairs. 

DULCIE. 

[After  a  pause.]     It  will  never  answer;  never, 
never,  never. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Gloomily.]     I  have  grave  doubts  on  the  point, 
certainly. 

MRS.  PANMURE 

But,  aunt  Corisande,  can't  a  mother  make  her 
child's  governess  a  friend  ? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
That's  precisely  what  you  haven't  done,  dear. 
DULCIE. 

What  you've  done,  Lottie,  is  to  make  a  friend  your 
child's  governess. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[To  MRS.  PANMURE.]     She  was  at  school  with 
you,  wasn't  she  ? 

MRS.  PAXMURE. 

At  Madame  Vignolles',   in  my  last  two  terms. 
She  was  the  baby  of  the  school  when  I  was  senior. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  15 

DULCIE. 

[Incredulously.]     Oh,  Lottie ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
She's  only  twenty-seven. 

DULCIE. 
[Humming.}     IFm,  h'm,  h'm ! 

MRS.  HEBBLETI-IWAITE. 

[Sitting  upon  the  settee  on  the  right.]  Who  is 
she? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Sitting,  facing  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE,  upon  the 
fauteuil-stool.]  Her  father  was  Colonel  Quarendon; 
he  was  something  in  the  War  Office.  Our  guest — 
Mr.  Stulkeley — knew  him,  and  speaks  highly  of 
him. 

DULCIE. 

[Sitting  on  the  settee  by  the  fireplace.]  Of  the 
father. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Mrs.  Quarendon  was  a  Walmsley. 

MRS.  HEBELETHWAITE. 
There  are  any  number  of  Wahnsleys. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

She  died  years  ago,  the  Colonel  the  year  before 
last. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
No  money? 


16  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Xot  a  penny. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Sad,  of  course. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

Josey's  had  a  dreadfully  rough  time  of  it.  I 
believe  she  has  known  what  it  is  to  dine  upon  an 
egg- 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Benevolently.]     Well,  my  dear,  if  it  was  a  fresh 

egg 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Auntie ! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Her  frocks  don't  give  one  the  notion  of  poverty. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

They  made  up  a  purse  for  her  in  London,  when  it 
was  settled  she  should  come  down  to  me. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Who  were  "  they  "  ? 

MRS.  PANMURE... 
Some  friends  of  her  father's. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE, 
Men  friends  ? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

I  haven't  inquired.  Anyhow,  the  figure  wasn't  a 
very  large  one. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  17 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Startled.]     Her  figure? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
No,  no;  the  amount  subscribed. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

I  thought  you  were  referring  to  her  measure- 
ments. 

DULCIE. 
[Amused.]     Ha,  ha! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Then,  again,  there  is  the  question  of  Myrtle's 
education.  Is  this  young  person  qualified  to  under- 
take it  ? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
She's  exceedingly  clever. 

DULCIE. 
As  clever  as  she  can  stick. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Cleverness  and  the  capacity  for  instructing  are 
different  matters. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

Dr.  Beaumont  says  that  Myrtle's  intellectual 
development  is  so  extraordinary,  so  in  advance  of 
her  years 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Perfectly  abnormal ! 


i8  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

That  was  the  expression  he  used — abnormal — so 
abnormal  that  what  she  most  needs  at  present  is 
brain-rest 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Then  perhaps  Miss  Quarendon  is  too  clever. 

DULCIE. 
[Rather  maliciously.]     Ha,  ha! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

Do  let  me  finish,  auntie — brain-rest  and  bright 
companionship.  There's  where  Josepha  is  invalu- 
able; in  spite  of  what  she  has  gone  through,  Josey 
has  the  happiest  of  dispositions. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Combined,  I  am  afraid,  with  a  slight  freedom  of 
manner. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Smiling.]  You  don't  like  her,  aunt  Corisande; 
that's  plain.  Nor  does  Dulcie. 

DULCIE. 

[Languidly.]  The  fact  is,  aunt,  Miss  Quarendon 
is  what  is  commonly  termed  a  man's  woman.  The 
men  swallow  her  at  a  gulp. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

I  fancy  that  must  be  the  case.  Your  uncle  Alfred 
is  positively  silly  over  her. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  19 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
'  Why  is  it  "  silly  "  to  be  kind  ? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

She's  almost  a  stranger  to  him;  we  haven't  been 
here  forty-eight  hours.  A  man  of  your  uncle's  age, 
too! 

DULCIE. 

Mr.  Stulkeley — the  frigid  Mr.  Stulkeley! — even 
he  contrives  to  unbend  when  he  speaks  to  her. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
And  little  Mr.  Woodhouse.    Absurd  ! 

DULCIE. 
They  hover  round  her  like  bees  round  a  flower. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
You  see,  bees  love  a  sw/iflower. 

DULCIE. 

Ho !  You'll  never  get  anything  severe  out  of 
Lottie,  aunt  Corisande,  if  you  try  till  doomsday. 

[HuGH  LORING,  a  ivell-groomed,  cheery, 
fresh-coloured  young  man  with  a 
vacuous  face,  enters  at  the  door  in  the 
centre. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[Rising.]     Ah! 

LORING. 

[Shaking  hands  with  MRS.  PANMURE.]  HowVyer 
once  more?  [To  DULCIE.]  'Ullo,  Dulce! 


20  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

DULCIE. 

[Calmly.}     Hallo,  old  thing! 

LORING. 

[Shaking  hands  with  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE.] 
HowVyer  again? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[To  LORING.]  Have  you  motored  over,  or 
driven  ? 

LORING. 

Dog-cart.  [Going  to  the  fireplace.}  Father's 
took  the  car  to  Shobdon,  to  hear  the  political  gents. 

DULCIE. 

Taken. 

LORING. 
Hey? 

DULCIE. 
Your  father  has  taken  the  car. 

LORING. 

[Puzzled.}  Oh — z'actly.  [To  MRS.  PANMURE.] 
I  say,  hard  lines,  Mrs.  Panmure !  Are  we  in  for  a 
lot  o'  beastly  snow? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Standing  behind  the  chair  between  the  settee  on 
the  left  and  the  fauteuil-stool.}  You're  thinking  of 
the  hunting? 

DULCIE. 

[Irritably.}  Wiry,  what  do  you  imagine  he's 
thinking  of,  Lottie? 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  21 

LORING. 

[Ruefully.]  It  was  to  'a  been  a  regular  thick 
week.  The  hounds  were  to  meet  at  Stoke's  Cross 
to-morrow;  and  Friday  father's  invited  some  swells 
to  shoot  the  home  covers. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Oh,  you'll  be  able  to  get  at  the  poor  pheasants. 

LORING. 
Xot  if  the  snow  lays  on  the  underwood. 

DULCIE. 
Lies. 

LORING. 
Hey? 

DULCIE. 
[Rising.]     Lies. 

LORING. 
[Aghast.]     Who  does? 

DULCIE. 
[Stamping  her  foot.]     Lies. 

LORING. 
What  are? 

DULCIE. 
If  the  snow  lies  on  the  underwood. 

LORING. 
[Relieved.]     Oh-h-h!     Z'actly. 


22  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Well,  if  it  would  give  the  unfortunate  birds  a 

rest 

DULCIE. 

[Moving  towards  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE.]     Yes, 
if  it  would  give  the  birds  a  rest,  as  a  topic  of  con- 
.   versation — and  the  foxes  also — I'd  bless  the  snow 
on  my  bended  knees. 

LORING. 
Dulce ! 

DULCIE. 

[Sitting  at  the  round  table.]     Oh,  la,  la;  la,  la! 
I'm  sick  of  hearing  about  hunting  and  shooting. 

LORING. 
I — I  beg  pardon. 

DULCIE. 

[Drumming  upon   the   table.]      Bored  to   tears 
with  it. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[Distressed.]     Dulcie! 

LORING. 

[Coming  to  DULCIE.]     I — I  forgot.    You've  said 
so  before,  haven't  you? 

DULCIE. 

Hinted  at  it ;  but  now  you've  got  it  straight  from 
the  shoulder,  Hughie. 

MRS.  PAXMURE. 

[To     MRS.     HEBBLETHWAITE,     in    a    flutter.] 
Auntie 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  23 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Rising.]     Yes,  dear? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Going  to  the  door  on  the  left.]  Perhaps  Dulcis 
and  Mr.  Loring 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Joining  MRS.  PANMURE.]     Yes,  I  expect  so. 
[The  two  ladies  retire  somewhat  precipitately. 

LORING. 

[In  an  aggrieved  tone.}  'Pon  my  soul,  Dulce ! 
Beastly  shame  to  jump  on  me  in  the  presence  of 
others ! 

DULCIE. 

[Rising  and  walking  about.]     Oh  ! 

LORING. 

Pitchin'  into  me  before  Mrs.  P.  and  your  aunt! 
DULCIE. 

[On  the  left.]  It  was  your  grammar  that  upset 
me. 

LORING. 

[Dejectedly.]  My  grammar  is  a  trifle  off  Vafter- 
noon,  I  own. 

DULCIE. 

[Confronting  him.]  Tell  me,  how  the  deuce  are 
we  .ever  to  shove  along  together  if  you  talk,  gram- 
matically or  otherwise,  of  nothing  but  hunting  and 


24  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

shooting  for  half  the  year  and  flies  and  fishing  for 
the  remaining  six  months?  [Pacing  the  room.] 
Oh  !  [He  seats  himself,  ivith  a  blank  look,  upon  the 
settee  on  the  right.]  Why  havenrt  you  gone  to 
Shobdon,  pray,  to  hear  Mr.  Stulkeley  and  uncle 
Alfred  hold  forth  at  the  Corn  Exchange  ? 

LORING. 
Pm  no  hand  at  politics. 

DULCIE. 
Ha!  There  you  are! 

LOBING. 

[Leaning  his  head  upon  his  fists.]  Oh,  I  know 
I'm  not  brainy,  Dulce,  and  that  sort  o'  thing. 

DULCIE. 

How  do  you  know?  -You've  never  used  your 
brains. 

LORING. 

This  kiddie  here— little  Myrtle— she'll  lick  me 
into  fits  over  an  argument,  Myrtle  will. 

DULCIE. 

You  needn't  argue ;  arguing  isn't  a  sign  of  intelli- 
gence. 

LORIXG. 

[Looking  up.]  I  have  thought  of  how  I  might 
improve  myself,  too — enlarge  my  mental  outlook, 
as  you  put  it  the  other  day. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  25 

DULCIE. 

[Coming  to  him,  softening.]  Have  you?  [He 
nods.]  Good  man!  [Rumpling  his  hair  affec- 
tionately.] Sorry  I  showed  you  up. 

LORING. 

At  best  I  could  never  make  myself  more  than  fair 
to  middlin' 

DULCIE. 
Bosh! 

LORING. 
Same  time — [contracting  his  brows]  Dulce 

DULCIE. 
[Tenderly.]  Eh? 

LORING. 

This  governess  of  Myrtle's — Miss  Wot's-'r- 
name 

DULCIE. 

[Freezing.]     Miss  Quarendon? 

LORING. 
S'pose  one  may  call  her  a  governess. 

DULCIE. 
What  of  her? 

LORING. 
She's  an  awf  ly  talented  gal. 

DULCIE. 
Awfully. 


26  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

LOKING. 

And  easy  to  get  on  with. 

DULCIE. 
Extremely  easy  to  get  on  with. 

LORING. 


,  if  she'd  give  me  an  hour  or  two's  coachin'— 
say,  three  days  a  week  —  with  the  permission  o'  the 
Panmures,  o'  course  - 

DULCIE. 

[Her  lips  becoming  thinner.]     Of  course. 
LORING. 

Read  some  stiff  books  to  me  —  out-and-out  stiff'uns 
—  or  let  me  read  to  her  —  any  system  she  chooses  — 

DULCIE. 

[Rigidly.]     Any  system  she  chooses.     Yes? 

LORING. 

It  ?ud  benefit  her  as  well  as  me.    Fd  make  it  worth 
her  while,  naturally. 

DULCIE. 
Xaturally. 

LORING. 
[Rising,  learning.']  Anything  in  it? 

DULCIE. 
I  consider  it  a  perfectly  admirable  suggestion. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  27 

LORING. 

You  do ! 

DULCIE. 

[Her  eyes  flashing.]  And  the  sooner  you  carry  it 
into  effect  the  better. 

[She  turns  from  him  and  stalks  to  the  door 
on  the  left. 

LORING. 

[Gazing  after  her  in  astonishment.]  Dulce! 
[She  goes  out.  He  follows  her,  bewildered.]  Any- 
thing wrong,  Dulce? 

[ As  he  disappears,  BRABNER  and  KITTS — the 
latter  a  young,  .sullen-looking  footman 
bearing  a  tray — enter  at  the  door  in  the 
centre  and  proceed  to  lay  the  tea. 

BRABNER. 

{Continuing  a  conversation,  after  glancing  round 
the  room.}  Cieanin*  your  plate,  were  you?  [Spread- 
ing a  cloth  upon  the  round  table.}  That's  your  ex- 
cuse for  missin'  mornin'  prayers,  is  it  ? 

KITTS. 

[Depositing  the  tray  upon  the  table.}  My  'ands 
were  covered  with  plate-powder. 

BRABNER. 

Well,  you  take  it  from  me,  Albert,  you  ^  must 
arrange  your  dooties  different  in  the  future,  if  you 
wish  to  remain  at  THe  Clewers, 


28  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

KlTTS. 

[Fetching  dishes  of  cake,  etc.,  from  the  corridor.] 
Sickenin'  fuss ! 

BRABNER. 

In  this  'ouse,  young  feller,  it'll  have  to  be  plate 
and  prayers. 

KITTS. 

[Assisting  BRABNER  to  dispose  the  dishes.]  One 
thing  I  notice. 

BRABNER. 
Wot's  that? 

KITTS. 

The  guv'nor  don't  seem  to  enjye  our  mornin'  an' 
evenin'  services  any  more  than  wot  I  do. 

BRABNER. 
Ho? 

KITTS. 

Sermon  nights  espeshully.  Pore  un'appy  man, 
whenever  'e  preaches  one  of  his  little  sermons,  'e's  a 
pityble  objict. 

BRABNER. 

Ellerquence  may  not  be  Mr.  Panmure's  strong 
point,  I  .grant.  Still,  it's  'ardly  becomin'  in  an 

unde'r-servant 

[JOSEPH A  and  MYRTLE  descend  the  stairs. 
JOSEPHA  is  singing  gaily  and  the  sound 
of  her  voice  comes  through  the  open 
doorway. 

KITTS. 
[With  a  motion  of  the  head.]    Ah,  that's  the  most 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  29 

likeable   person   at   this   end  o'   the  building   Mr. 
Brabner. 

BRABNER. 

[Softly.}     Well,   I  don't  say  you're  far  wrong 
there,  my  boy. 

[JOSEPHA  enters  with  MYRTLE.  BRABNER 
smiles  benignly  on  JOSEPHA,  who  smiles 
in  response,  and  the  two  men  withdraw. 

MYRTLE. 

[Her  feet  in  huge,  square-toed  shoes — surveying 
the  tea-table,  peevishly.}  I  want  my  tea. 

JOSEPHA. 

You  must  wait  till  the  gentlemen  return. 
MYRTLE. 

These  visitors  of  ours  disorganise  everything. 
[Taking  a  small  cake  from  the  table.}  Why  are  we 
entertaining  this  Mr.  Stulkeley,  Josepha  ? 

JOSEPHA. 

[At  the  fireplace.}  Mr.  Hebblethwaite  proposed 
it,  I  understand. 

MYRTLE. 

[Seating  herself  at  the  round  table  and  munching 
her  cake.}  For  what  reason? 

JOSEPHA. 
They're  friends — political  associates. 


30  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

MYRTLE. 

At  that  rate,  my  great-uncle  might  inflict  half  the 
House  of  Commons  upon  us. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Moving  about.}  You  see,  Myr,  parliament's  not 
sitting  for  the  moment  and  so  Mr.  Stulkeley  is  on 
the  stump. 

MYRTLE. 
How  vulgar  you  are ! 

JOSEPHA. 
This  week  he's  waving  his  banner  in  our  district. 

MYRTLE. 

[Wearily.]     Tariff  Reform,  I  presume? 
JOSEPHA. 

Yes ;  and  Mr.  Hebblethwaite  thought  it  would  be 
convenient  to  Mr.  Stulkeley  and  his  cousin  and 
secretary,  Mr.  Woodhouse 

MYRTLE. 
Odious  creature ! 

JOSEPHA. 

If  they  were  allowed  to  make  The  Clewers  their 
head-quarters.  The  big  meeting  is  at  Polehampton 
to-morrow. 

MYRTLE. 

Are  the  ladies  to  attend  ? 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  31 

JOSEPHA. 

Rather!     I'm  longing  for  it. 

MYBTLE. 

[Raising  her  skirt  and  wiping  her  fingers  upon 
her  petticoat.]  I  shall  certainly  plead  indisposition. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Leaning  over  MYRTLE.]  Oh,  come,  Myr;  do 
buck  np !  Don't  view  life  in  such  a  grey  light. 

MYBTLE; 

[Rising.]     My  de-ah  Josepha — 

JOSEPHA. 
It'll  he  ripping  fun,  being  on  the  platform. 

MYRTLE. 

[Walking  away  to  the  fireplace,  fastidiously.]  My 
deah  Josepha,  sometimes  I  find  your  high  spirits  too 
terribly  oppressive. 

JOSIPHA. 
Do  you ! 

MYRTLE. 

Either  you've  no  liver  or  your  troubles  have 
blunted  your  finer  perceptions. 

JOSEPHA. 

You  horrid  little  pig,  Myr !  It's  because  my  per- 
ceptions are  keen  that  I'm  as  brisk  and  cheerful  as  I 
am.  Ah,  it  would  do  you  good  to  have  a  taste  of 
poverty  some  day. 


32  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

MYRTLE. 
Doubtless. 

JOSEPHA. 

Poverty  such  as  I've  experienced.  Then  your 
mind  would  dwell  less  upon  your  liver,  and  youM 
learn  to  appraise  things  at  their  full  value — com- 
fort, a  home,  roaring  fires,  a  luxurious  bed  to  lie  in, 
pretty  walls  to  gaze  at.  [Approaching  MYRTLE.] 
You  shrimp ! 

MYRTLE. 

[Disdainfully.]     Pig — shrimp ! 

JOSEPHA. 

Do  you  know  Fve  lived  in  a  bare,  seven-and-six- 
penny  furnished  lodging  in  Bloomsbury? 

MYRTLE. 
Bloomsbury  conveys  nothing  to  me. 

JOSEPHA. 
No,  you  worm ! 

MYRTLE. 
Worm ! 

JOSEPHA. 

The  desolation  of  it !  And  you  dare  to  sniff  at  me 
for  feeling  joyous.  Insect ! 

MYRTLE. 
Insect ! 

JOSEPHA. 
Do  you  love  your  mother? 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  33 

MYRTLE. 
A  strange  question. 

JOSEPHA. 
Do  you? 

MYRTLE. 
I  trust  I  am  not  destitute  of  natural  affection. 

JOSEPHA. 

That  alone  should  make  you  happy.  But,  no; 
you  haven't  a  tithe  of  the  love  for  her  that  I  have. 
She's  my  mother,  father,  sister,  brother,  friend,  all 
in  one — and  an  angel  into  the  bargain. 

MYRTLE. 

Don't  be  rhapsodical,  Josey. 
JOSEPHA. 

She's  brought  me  into  harbour,  after  such  a  toss- 
ing about — into  harbour  !  [Sitting  in  the  arm-chair 
~by  the  fauteuil-stool.]  Myrtle  dearie,  often  and 
often,  when  I'm  by  myself,  I  go  down  on  all-fours 
and  kiss  the  carpet,  out  of  pure  thankfulness. 

MYRTLE. 

Harbours  don't  have  carpets.  That  comes  of 
employing  metaphors. 

JOSEPHA. 

Ha,  ha!  [Stretching  out  her  arms  to  MYRTLE, 
who  goes  to  her  and  sits  upon  her  lap.}  But  I  do ;  I 
kiss  the  carpet  in  thankfulness- — thankfulness  that 


34  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

the  earth  under  me  is  solid  once  more.     [Embracing 
MYRTLE.]     Oh,  Myrtle! 

MYRTLE. 
[Responding   to   the   embrace.]      Pig — shrimp — 

worm — insect 

JOSEPHA. 

[Hugging  the  child.]  Precious!  [The  hoot  of  a 
motor-horn,  several  times  repeated,  is  heard,  pro- 
ceeding from  the  right.  JOSEPHA  jumps  up,  nearly 
capsizing  MYRTLE.]  Here  they  are!  [Putting 
MYRTLE  in  order.]  Sorry. 

MYRTLE. 

Careless ! 

[MRS.  PANMURE  and  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE 
enter  from  the  left,  go  out  at  the  door  in 
the  centre,  and  disappear  on  the  right. 
KITTS  is  seen  hurrying  along  the 
corridor. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[As  she  passes  through  the  room.]     The  car. 
MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[At  her  heels.]  I  hope  Alfred  hasn't  caught  a 
chill.  He's  one  of  those  who  appear  robust 

JOSEPHA. 

[To  MYRTLE.]  Scissors!  Your  nose  is  still 
frightfully  red,  Myr. 

[She  produces  a  little  metal  box  containing 
a  preparation  for  the  face  and  smears 
the  stuff  heedlessly  upon  MYRTLE'S  nose. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  35 

MYRTLE. 
[Resenting  the  operation.]     Tscha!    Pish! 

[With  a  nose  as  white  as  a  clown's,  MYRTLE 
walks  away  to  the  right  and  seats  herself 
upon  the  settee  as  DULCIE  enters  at  the 
door  on  the  left  followed  by  LORING. 
JOSEPHA  mends  the  fire  and  throws  some 
logs  on.  It  is  evident  that  DULCIE'S 
coolness  towards  LORIXG  has  not  abated. 


LORING. 

7o    DULCIE,    in 
Dulc 


[To    DULCIE,    in    an    undertone,    appealingly .] 
ik 

DULCIE. 
[Turning  to  him  icily.}  Did  you  speak? 

LORING. 
Anything  amiss,  Dulce  ? 

DULCIE. 
[Dropping  her  voice.}  No  thing  now. 

LORING. 
Now? 

DULCIE. 

Now  that  there  are  a  few  fairly  intelligent  men  on 
the  premises. 

[DULCIE  moves  over  fo  the  right  as  MRS. 
PAX  MURE  enters  with  STULKELEY,  a  tall, 
dignified  man  of  forty-tiro  with  a  noble 
forehead  and  a  precise,  formal  manner. 


36  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[To  STULKELEY.]  Have  you  had  a  successful 
meeting  ? 

STULKELEY. 

Quite.  Quite  an  encouraging  meeting  on  a  small 
scale. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Let  me  introduce  Mr.  Hugh  Loring. 

LORING. 
[To  STULKELEY.]     HowVyer? 

[STULKELEY  lows  to  LORING,  acknowledges 
DULCIE'S  presence  with  a  polite  smile, 
and  then  drifts  to  the  fireplace  and  to 
JOSEPHA.  DULCIE  elevates  her  brows  in 
displeasure. 

STULKELEY. 

ISTot  that  the  proceedings  were  altogether  har- 
monious. [To  JOSEPHA.]  Miss  Quarendon's  de- 
scription last  night  of  the  humours  of  the  Shobdon 
native  was  fully  justified. 

[HEBBLETHWAITE,  a  jovial,  rubicund  man  of 
fifty-five,  enters  with  MRS.  HEBBLE- 
THWAITE. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[To  MRS.  PANMURE  and  DULCIE.]  Ah,  Lottie! 
Ah,  Dulcie  !  P>ack  again,  my  dears  !  Glad  to  see  the 
fire,  I  can  tell  you.  [To  'LORING,  who  is  sitting 
wretchedly  upon  the  settee  at  the  back,]  Hallo,  Mr. 
Loring! 

LORING. 
HowYyer? 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  37 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Joining  JOSEPHA  and  STULKELEY.]  Is  that 
little  Miss  Josey  ? 

[MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE  also  is  displeased  and 
glances  significantly  at  DULCIE.  WOOD- 
HOUSE  and  PANMURE  enter.  WOOD- 
HOUSE  is  a  foppishly  tailored,  finical 
little  gentleman  of  thirty,  PANMURE  a 
depressed,  sandy  man  of  forty-four,  once 
good-looking  but  now  scant  of  hair  and 
with  a  variegated,  bilious  complexion. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Holding  up  his  hands.]  Oh,  my  dear  Mrs. 
Panmure !  My  dear  Miss  Anstice !  Oh,  my  dear 
ladies !  I  really  do  congratulate  you  on  not  having 
patronized  our  show  this  afternoon.  Oh,  what  an 
experience!  [Catching  sight  of  JOSEPHA  and  join- 
ing the  group  at  the  fireplace.]  You  were  quite 
right,  Miss  Quarendon — primeval  savages  ! 

PANMURE. 

I  warned  you  it  was  a  rowdy,  one-eyed  place. 
[  Going  to  LORING.  ]  Hallo,  Hughie  ! 

LORING. 
HowVyer? 

DULCIE. 

[To  MRS.  PANMURE  and  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE, 
in  a  whisper.]  Just  look ! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[In  a  whisper.]     Astonishing! 


38  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[Pacifically.}     Hush,  hush! 
DULCIE. 
Gathering  round  that  girl ! 

[BRABNER  enters  at  the  door  in  the  centre, 
carrying  a  tea-urn.  KITTS  follows  with 
dishes  of  hot  toast  and  muffins. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

Tea.  [Sitting  at  the  round  table.}  Poor  people  ! 
They  must  want  tea  hadly. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Sitting  at  the  round  table — sharply.]  I  do. 
[The  servants  withdraw.  MRS.  PANMURE  pours  out 
tea.  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE  turns  in  the  direction 

of  her  husband.]     Alfred — Alfred [The  group 

at  the  fireplace  breaks  up.  JOSEPIIA  moves  to  the 
settee  at  the  back  and — LORING  having  risen  to  talk 
to  PANMURE — sits  there.]  Alfred — tea! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
We've  had  it,  my  dear. 

STULKELEY. 

[Coming  forward.]  They  were  kind  enough  to 
provide  tea  for  us  at  the  Corn  Exchange. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Coming  forward.]  Yes,  and  I  believe  they'd 
boiled  some  of  their  corn  in  it.  Ha,  ha  ! 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  39 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Coming  forward.]  No,  no;  it  was  genuine  tea, 
I'm  convinced — grown  in  the  county. 

MKS.  PANMURE. 

[Giving  a  cup  of  tea  to  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE.] 
Auntie.  No  sugar,  I  remember.  [Handing  a  cup  to 
DULCIE  wlio  is  standing  at  the  table.]  Dulcie. 
[Filling  another  cup.]  Josey  dear . 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Advancing  and  taking  the  cup  from  MRS. 
PANMURE.]  Permit  me. 

[He  carries  the  cup  to  JOSEPHA,  upon  which 
HEBBLETHWAITE  picks  up  one  of  the 
dishes  from  the  table  and  goes  to 
JOSEPHA  with  it.  STULKELEY  im- 
mediately follows  HEBBLETHWAITE'S  ex- 
ample, and  again  DULCIE  and  MRS. 
HEBBLETIIWAITE  exchange  glances. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[Holding  up  a  cup.]     Mr.  Loring? 

LORING. 

[Leaving  PANMURE.]    No,  thanks. 

[He  also  removes  a  dish  from  the  table  and, 
unconscious  of  the  enormity  of  the  act, 
conveys  'it  to  JOSEPHA. 

DULCIE. 

[To  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE,  gasping.]  Well! 
That  takes  the  cake,  in  every  sense  ! 


40  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[To  DULCIE.]     The  muffins  have  gone  already. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[Handing  a  cup  of  tea  to  MYRTLE.]     Darling. 

[MYRTLE  rises  to  receive  her  cup  and  to  help 
herself  to  bread-and-butter;  then  she- 
walks  off  with  her  cup  and  plate  and  sits 
upon  the  fauteuil-stool.  The  three 
ladies  at  the  round  table  stare  at  her  in 
amazement. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Under  her  breath.]     Mercy  on  us! 

DULCIE. 
Heavens ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[Faintly.]    What  a  disfigurement ! 

[They  produce  their  pocket-handkerchiefs  as 
PANMURE,  who  has  been  standing  at  the 
back  moodily,  his  hands  in  his  trouser- 
pockets,  advances  and  addresses  MRS. 
HEBBLETHWAITE. 

PANMURE. 

Old  Alfred  did  splendidly  this  afternoon,  Corry — 
backed  Mr.  Stulkeley  up  in  fine  style. 

MRS.  PANMURE  and  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[In  a  whisper.]     St.  John 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  41 

PANMURE. 

Eh — wha' ?    [MRS.  PANMURE,  MRS.  HEBBLE- 

THWAITE,  and  DULCIE  touch  their  noses  and  point 
at  MYRTLE  who  is  innocently  absorbed  in  her  tea.] 
Great  Scot ! 

[He   takes   out   his  pocket-handkerchief  as 
STULKELEY  comes  forward. 

STULKELEY. 

[To  PANMURE.]  Did  I  hear  you  praising  Hebble- 
thwaite?  [PANMURE  nods.]  I  cordially  agree ;  his 
speech  was  worthy  of  a  more  important  occasion. 
[PANMURE  moves  to  the  fireplace,  giving  MYRTLE'S 
nose  an  ineffectual  rub  with  his  handkerchief  in 
passing.  She  looks  up,  startled  and  indignant. 
STULKELEY  replaces  the  dish  which  he  is  carrying 
upon  the  round  table.]  I  hope  he'll  be  in  similar 
form  to-morrow. 

[He    seats    himself    on    the    settee    beside 
DULCIE  as  WOODHOUSE  advances. 

WOODHOUSE. 

I  say,  Mr.  Panmure,  who  was  that  low  fellow  who 
put  those  confounded  impudent  questions  at  the  end 
of  the  meeting? 

PANMURE. 

Percy  Jones,  the  Shobdon  grocer. 
WOODHOUSE. 

At  one  moment  I  felt  tempted  to  knock  his  com- 
mon head  off.  [Crossing  to  PANMURE,  he  encounters 
MYRTLE,  stares  at  her,  and  recoils.]  I — I — 'pon  my 
word,  I  did. 


42  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

[MYRTLE  returns  his  stare  loftily.  He  steals 
past  her  and  goes  to  PANMURE  as 
HEBBLETHWAITE  comes  to  the  round 
table  and  puts  his  dish  down. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Mr.  Percy  Jones,  was  be  ?  Ho,  ho  !  An  admirable 
chap;  admirable!  [Chuckling.]  Ha,  ha,  ha! 
[MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE  makes  a  whispered  com- 
munication to  him.]  Eh?  [Looking  at  MYRTLE.] 
Lor'  bless  me !  [Producing  his  handkerchief.] 
Yes,  I  should  be  delighted  to  improve  my  acquaint- 
ance with  Mr.  Percy  Jones — delighted. 

[He  joins  PANMURE  and  WOODHOUSE,  rub- 
bing MYRTLE'S  nose  with  his  handker- 
chief on  his  way.  There  is  a  fresh  dis- 
play of  indignation  on  MYRTLE'S  part, 
LORING  deposits  his  dish  upon  the  table 
"  on  tlie  left  and  goes  to  the  men  at  the 
fireplace.  JOSEPHA  comes  to  the  round 
table,  carrying  her  tea-cup,  and  MRS. 
HEBBLETHWAITE  and  MRS.  PANMURE 
direct  her  attention  to  MYRTLE. 
JOSEPHA  looks  at  MYRTLE,  starts  in  dis- 
may, and,  taking  out  her  handkerchief, 
rubs  the  child's  nose. 

MYRTLE. 

Ga-a-ah  !  [To  avoid  further  persecution,  MYRTLE 
twists  herself  round  towards  the  fire,  whereupon 
PANMURE  again  attacks  her  with  his  handkerchief.] 
Ya-a-ah! 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  43 

[She  wriggles  herself  free  and  marches  in 
high  dudgeon  to  the  round  table,  where 
she  leaves  her  plate  and  cup  and  saucer. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Rising.]  Josey  dear,  darling  Myrtle  is  to  dine 
with  the  grown-ups  to-night.  I  think  she  should 
have  an  hour's  rest  upon  her  bed. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Seizing  MYRTLE'S  arm  and  leading  her  to  the 
door  in  the  centre.]  Yes,  yes. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[To  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE,  inviting  her  to  with- 
draw.] Shall  we 

MYRTLE. 

[Resisting.]  You  are  all  worrying  me  to  death. 
I  decline  to  rest. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[At  the  door.]     Darling,  for  beauty's  sake. 

MYRTLE. 

I  attach  no  importance  to  beauty.  I'm  surprised 
at  you,  mother. 

[  JOSEPHA  coatees  MYRTLE  into  the  corridor — 
the  child  still  protesting — and  they  go 
up  the  stairs.  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE 
and  MRS.  PANMURE  are  about  to  follow 
when  DULCIE  joins  them. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[To  DULCIE.]  Dulcie — [glancing  at  LORING]  — 
Mr.  Loring. 


44  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

DULCIE. 

[Shrugging  her  shoulders.]  Oh,  Hughie  must 
amuse  himself.  My  head's  splitting. 

[The  three  ladies  retire  and  they  too  ascend 
the  stairs.  STULKELEY,  who  has  risen 
with  DULCIE,  now  walks  slowly  to  the 
door  in  the  centre. 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Going  to  him.]     Do  you  want  me,  Reggie? 

STULKELEY. 

No,  thank  you  very  much,  my  dear  Talbot.  [To 
HEBBLETHWAITE.]  Hebblethwaite,  you'll  find  me 
in  the  library. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Who  is  talking  to  PANMURE — to  STULKELEY.] 
I'll  come  to  you. 

STULKELEY. 

[To  PANMURE.]  So  kind  of  you  to  place  your 
room  at  my  disposal,  dear  Mr.  Panmure. 

PANMURE. 

[To  STULKELEY.]  Don't  mention  it;  you're  wel- 
come. 

STULKELEY. 
I  appreciate  your  self-denial. 

[STULKELEY  goes  out  and  LORING  approaches 
WOODHOUSE,  who  is  lighting  a  cigarette. 

LORING. 
[To  WOODHOUSE.]     Excuse  me;  my  name's  Lor- 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  45 

ing.     I'm  at  home  here.    Would  you  care  to  knock 
the  ball's  about  for  half-an-hour  ? 

WOODHOUSE. 

My  dear  Mr.  Lawrie,  you  are  too  charming !  But 
I  don't  play  billiards;  I  wish  I  did.  [Buttonholing 
him.]  If  you  could  make  up  a  four  for  Bridge,  now ! 

LORING. 

[Lowering  his  voice.]  Yes,  but  cards  are  barred 
in  this  house. 

WOODHOUSE. 
Not  really ! 

LORING. 
Fact. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Taking  his  arm.]  Then  I'll  play  you  a  hundred 
up  with  pleasure.  [They  go  out  together. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[To  PANMURE.]  Well,  I'll  go  and  have  my  talk 
with  Stulkeley.  We've  got  to  arrange  the  line  we 
take  to-morrow.  [Moving  to  the  door  in  the  centre.] 
What  are  you  going  to  be  up  to  ? 

PANMURE. 

I  ?  [Constrainedly.]  Oh,  I — I've  got  my  sermon 
to  prepare. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Pausing.  ]     Sermon  ? 


46  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

PAXMURE. 

Yes,  I — I  preach  a  sort  o'  sermon  twice  a  week  at 
evening  prayers — Wednesdays  and  Saturdays. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[With  a  twinkle.]     You  do  ! 
PANMURE. 

Seven  or  eight  minutes,  you  know — not  more ;  a 
mere  trifle.  Sermonette,  /  call  it.  [Crossing  to  the 
writing-table  anxiously  and  fidgeting  with  some 
writing-paper.]  By  George,  though,  I  haven't  the 
remotest  idea  what  I  shall  treat  you  to  to-night ! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Ho,  ho,  ho !  [Returning.]  I  must  be  careful  not 
to  catch  your  eye  while  you're  sermonetting. 

PAXMURE. 

Oh,  you  can  jeer.  [Leaving  the  writing-table. ~\ 
It's  an  excellent  thing  for  the  servants.  Besides, 
I'm  not  such  a  duffer  at  it,  when  I'm  in  fettle. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Xo,  but — [poking  him  in  the  ribs]  ha,  ha,  ha! — 

you! 

PAXMURE. 

[Forcing  a  laugh.]    He,  he,  he  ! 
HEBBLETHWAITE. 
We'd  no  sermonettes  when  I  was  last  with  vou — 


PRESERVING  MR.  PAN  MURE  47 

simply  a  chapter  and  a  hymn  or  two.    When  did  you 
start  sermonetting  ? 

PANMURE. 

About  a  month  after  the  new  parson  came  to  Pole- 
hampton.  [Sitting  upon  the  settee  on  the  right,  his 
tone  suddenly  changing,]  Alfred 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Eh? 

PANMURE. 
[Quietly.]     Damn  him ! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Ho,  ho,  ho ! 

PANMURE. 

Damn  him,  damn  him,  damn  him,  damn  him ! 
HEBBLETHWAITE. 

'Ha,   ha,   ha!      {Wiping   his   eyes.]      He   doesn't 
strike  me  as  being  a  bad  chap,  either. 

PANMURE. 

No,  I  s'pose  he  ain't  a  bad  chap.  I  s'pose  he's 
what  you'd  term  a  good  chap.  But  he's  managed  to 
make  my  home  a  doocid  deal  more  sanctimonious 
than  it's  ever  been  since  I  married,  and  that's  saying 
something.  He's  put  the  finishing  touch  to  my 
missus ;  b'George,  he  has ! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Pursing  his  lips.]    H'm !    I  thought  last  night — 


48  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

PANMURE. 

[Looking  at  HEBBLETHWAITE.]  You  twigged — 
no  cards?  [HEBBLETHWAITE  nods.]  Lottie's  shut 
the  drawing-room  up. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Why?' 

PANMURE. 

Because  the  card-tables  are  there,  and — [as  if  re- 
peating a  lesson]  and  she  doesn't  want  to  pain  me 
while  I'm  accustoming  myself  to  the  deprivation. 
[Wildly.]  I  know  what's  going  to  happen;  /  know. 
I'm  sure  of  it ;  I'm  certain  of  it ! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
What? 

PANMURE. 

When  the  room's  reopened,  I  shall  find  the  tables 
gone;  I  shall  find  'em  clean  gone.  I  know  I  shall; 
I  know  I  shall ! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Shouldn't  be  surprised,  St.  John. 

PANMURE. 

The  only  indoor  games  allowed  now  are  billiards 
and  jig-saw  puzzles.  He  plays  billiards,  or  that  'ud 
be  abolished. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Mr.  Pruyn? 

PANMURE. 
Flatters  himself  he   can   play.      [Whimpering.] 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  49 

Damn  him,  the  beggar's  cut  the  cloth  !    He's  cut  the 
cloth  in  two  places  ! 

[  JOSEPHA  lias  come  down  the  stairs  and  now 
enters  at  the  door  in  the  centre.  A  book 
is  tucked  under  her  arm. 

JOSEPHA. 
Oh  !    [Shutting  the  door.]    I  beg  your  pardon. 

PANMURE. 
[Rising.]     All  right;  no  harm  done. 

[She  goes  softly  to  the  door  on  the  left. 
JOSEPHA. 

[At  the  door,  holding  up  the  book.]     A  novel. 
[Smiling.]     Don't  split  on  me. 

[She  withdraws.  The  two  men  watch  the 
closing  of  the  door. 

PANMURE. 

[After  the  silence,  in  a  low  voice.]    Ah,  that's  the 
one  speck  o'  brightness  in  this  dull  hole  of  a  house. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Yes,  she's  a  jolly  little  woman. 

PANMURE. 

[Meditatively.]     Dulcie's  got  her  knife  into  her, 
I've  begun  to  suspect.    She's  too  pretty  for  Dulcie. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
I  hope  Lottie  won't  let  that 


50  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

PANMURE. 

Oh,  no;  trust  Lottie.  Lottie's  a  trump;  she 
wouldn't  do  anything  unjust.  [Abruptly,  laying  a 
finger  on  HEBBLETHWAITE'S  waistcoat.]  Mark  you, 
I  haven't  said  a  word  against  my  wife,  Alfred. 
Lottie's  far  and  away  above  me;  that's  all  that's 
askew  between  us.  How  she  came  to  stoop  to  me  is 
a  mystery;  she  was  aware  I'd  been  rather  a  loose 
fish.  I  b'lieve  that's  why  she  did  it — to  reform  me. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Probably. 

PANMURE. 

And  she  has  reformed  me.  She's  made  another 
man  of  me,  brought  out  all  my  best  qualities ; 
b'George,  she  has!  [Brightening.]  I'm  really  not 
a  bad  specimen  of  the  ordinary  English  country 
gentleman,  Alfred. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Encouragingly.]     Quite  the  reverse. 
PANMURE. 

Hospitable,  generous  to  the  poor  round  about  me, 
a  Justice  of  the  Peace,  and  so  forth !  And  I  owe 
everything  to  Lottie.  I  swore  to  myself  on  my 
wedding  morning  I  wouldn't  disappoint  her ;  and  I 
haven't,  and  don't  intend.  [Walking  to  the  fire- 
place, flourishing  his  coat-tails.]  No,  b'George,  I 
don't! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Oh,  well,  come,  come !  If  you  can  look  at  things 
in  this  light,  you  ought  to  feel  tolerably  happy. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  51 

PANMUEE. 

I  do  feel  happy.  I  am  happy.  Occasionally  I 
have  a  fit  o'  the  blues;  you've  just  seen  me  in  one. 
But,  take  me  altogether,  I'm  happy  and — and — and 
proud.  [Hitting  his  chest.]  Proud,  b'George! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Again  moving  towards  the  door.}  And  I  dare 
say  that  in  course  of  time  Lottie's  piety'll  tone  down 
a  bit.  Women  fluctuate ;  the  more  extreme  they  are, 
the  greater  the  chance  of  a  change.  [Turning.] 
Ha !  I  had  my  difficulties  to  contend  with  in  my 
married  life  some  years  back. 

PANMURE. 
[Condescendingly.}     Did  you,  my  dear  feller? 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Before  I  knew  you.  But  it  wasn't  piety  in  Corry's 
case. 

PANMUEE. 
No? 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
It  was  jealousy  with  her. 

PANMUEE. 
[Raising  his  eyebrows.]     Jealousy?    Marvellous! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Slightly  nettled.]  What  the  devil  is  there  that's 
marvellous  in  it?  Marvellous  or  not,  it  was  con- 
foundedly inconvenient  while  it  lasted.  However, 


52  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

the  point  is  that  Corry  has  become  a  different  woman 
since  those  days — a  totally  different  woman. 

PANMURE. 
[Not  interested.]     Indeed? 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Noil}  I  might  spend  a  summer  afternoon  with  a 
siren  on  a  lonely  rock;  my  old  lady  has  the  most 
complete  confidence  in  me.  Bless  her  heart !  Ha, 
ha!  [Opening  the  door.]  But  you  want  to  get  on 
with  your  sermonette. 

PANMURE. 

If  you  don't  object,  ol'  boy. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

I'll  run  along  to  Stulkeley. 

[He  departs  and,  with  an  air  of  determina- 
tion, PANMURE  produces  his  cigar-case, 
lights  a  cigar,  and  makes  for  the  writing- 
table.  There  he  sits  and,  humming  the 
refrain  of  a  faded  music-hall  song, 
resolutely  takes  up  a  pen  and  proceeds 
to  write.  Apparently  inspiration  fails 
him,  for,  after  a  while,  he  leans  'back,  in 
his  chair,  ruffles  his  hair,  and  utters  a 
deep  groan.  Again  he  applies  himself 
to  his  task,  scribbles  a  few  words  and, 
with  another  groan,  again  breaks  down. 
He  rises  painfully,  pen  in  hand,  in  a 
dismal  voice  resumes  his  humming,  and, 
helpless  and  woebegone,  wanders  about 
the  room.  Suddenly  his  eyes  rest  upon 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  53 

the  door  on  tlie  left  and  an  idea  occurs  to 
him.  He  goes  to  the  door,  opens  it  a 
little  way,  and  pops  his  head  into  the 
adjoining  apartment. 

PANMURE. 
[Feebly.]     Hallo! 

JOSEPHA. 

[From  the  next  room.]     Yes? 

PANMURE. 

Hi !  Come  here  a  second.  [He  moves  away  from 
the  door  and  presently  JOSEPHA  appears.]  I'm  in 
such  a  shocking  mess,  Miss  Quarendon. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Sympathetically.]  A  mess  ?  [Closing  the  door 
and  approaching  him.]  Anything  I  can  do  for  you  ? 

PANMURE. 
My  Sermon 

JOSEPHA. 
What  about  it? 

PANMURE. 
My  discourse  for  to-night 

JOSEPHA. 
Aren't  you  pleased  with  it  ? 

PANMURE. 

Pleased  with  it!  It  doesn't  exist.  I  haven't 
written  it. 

JOSEPHA. 
Why  not? 


54  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

PANMURE. 

Haven't  the  ghost  of  a  notion  for  it ;  can't  hit  on 
one. 

JOSEPHA. 

Oh,  Mr.  Panmure,  why  do  you  leave  your  prep, 
till  the  last  moment? 

PANMURE. 

I  don't.  My  brain's  continually  at  work.  But 
I'm  run  dry.  I've  come  to  the  end  of  my  tether. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Thoughtfully.}  Your  last  effort  wasn't  very 
impressive,  was  it? 

PANMURE. 
Impressive !     An  utter  fiasco,  b' George  ! 

JOSEPHA. 
Did  Lottie  scold  you  for  it? 

PANMURE. 

She  didn't  exactly  scold.  But  she  opened  her 
eyes  at  me — you  know 

JOSEPHA. 
[Nodding.]     H'm. 

PANMURE. 

Damn  it,  I  did  want  to  score  top-notch  this 
evening!  [Pacing  the  room.]  These  political 
blokes  in  the  house!  Beasts!  With  their  parlia- 
mentary airs !  Supercilious  beasts !  I  shall  see  'em 
bowing  their  heads  to  hide  their  faces.  Their 


PRESERVING  MR.  PAN  MURE  55 

attitude'll  look  devotional,  but  I  shall  guess  what* s 
going  on  inside  'em  ! 

[He  sits  upon  the  settee  by  the  fireplace  in  a 
state  of  deep  dejection. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Coming  to  the  back  of  the  armchair  by  the 
settee — firmly.]  Now,  Mr.  Panmure,  listen  to  me. 
Shall  I  tell  you  where  you  make  a  mistake? 

PANMURE. 
[Violently.]  It  doesn't  help  to  bully  me. 

JOSEPHA. 
I'm  not  bullying  you. 

PANMURE. 
Bullying  won't  help"  me  in  the  least. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Striking  the  back  of  the  chair.]  I'm  not  going 
to  bully  you. 

PANMURE. 

[Sulkily.]     Very  well,  then;  mind  you  don't. 
JOSEPHA. 

The  mistake  you  make  is  that  you  rely  too  much 
on  your  own  invention. 

PANMURE. 
Whose  invention  should  I  rely  on? 


56  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

JOSEPHA. 

Any  eminent  divine's.     You  ought  to  crib. 

PANMURE. 
[Turning  to  her.]     Crib? 

JOSEPHA. 

Copy  other  men's  sermons  and  addresses — make 
extracts  from  them. 

PANMURE. 

[Loweringly.]      That's    unprincipled,    ain't    it? 
JOSEPHA. 

Half  the  parsons  do  it.  [Laughing.]  Ha,  ha, 
Ha!  Anything's  better  than  such  a  performance 
as  you  gave  us  on  Saturday. 

PANMURE. 
Eub  it  in !    Eub  it  in ! 

JOSEPHA. 

Surely  you've  some  volumes  of  sermons  in  the 
library. 

PANMURE. 

[Rising.]  I  dun'no  what's  in  the  library.  It 
was  my  poor  old  dad's  library;  I've  never  had  time 
to  go  through  the  shelves. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Reproachfully.]  Never  had  time!  He's  been 
dead  ten  years,  hasn't  he? 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  57 

PANMURE. 

[Breaking  out  again.]  It's  no  use  bullying1  me ! 
Bullying  isn't  of  the  slightest  service.  [Walking 
away  to  the  right.]  What  I  require  is  a  little 
assistance  to  get  me  over  to-night.  [Shaking  his 
fists  in  the  air.]  Once  I'm  over  to-night ! 

JOSEPH  A. 

[Cogitating.]  There's  an  array  of  Lives  of  the 
Saints  in  the  library;  you  could  cram  from  them. 
[With  sudden  excitement.]  Is  to-day  a  saint's 
day? 

PANMURE. 
[Dully.]     Dun'no. 

JOSEPHA. 

If  it  is,  we've  got  a  subject  for  your  discourse 
ready-made.  [Pointing  to  the  writing-table.] 
Look  in  the  Kalendar — the  Churchman's  Kalendar ! 
[He  searches  among  some  books  which  are  in  a 
rack  upon  the  writing-table.]  Oh,  do  bustle,  Mr. 
Panmure ! 

PANMURE. 

[Finding  the  book.]  Mowbray's  Churchman's 
Kalendar. 

[She  runs  to  the  settee  on  the  right  and, 
kneeling  upon  the  settee,  holds  out  her 
hand  for  the  book.  He  stands  behind 
the  settee  and  they  examine  the  book 
together. 

JOSEPHA. 

January — the  twenty-sixth — here  we  are — [dis- 
appointed] oh,  no  saint !  What  a  blow ! 


58  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

PANMURE. 
Just  my  infernal  luck ! 

JOSEPHA. 

Wait,   wait,  wait.      [Turning   tlie  leaves  of  the 
book]     You're  so  impatient.     I  rather  fancy— 
[triumphantly]     yes!      "Addenda"!      January — 
twentieth — twenty-fourth — twenty-sixth  —  hooray ! 
[leaving  the  settee]     St.  Polycarp !     St.  Polycarp! 

PANMURE. 

[Replacing  the  Calendar  and  then  advancing.] 
Who  was  he? 

JOSEPHA. 

One  of  the  Apostolic  Fathers.  We've  got  the 
Apostolic  Fathers — [thinking]  bottom  shelf,  right- 
hand  side  of  the  door  as  you  go  in. 

PANMURE. 
[Catching  her  enthusiasm.]     You  are  a  brick! 

JOSEPHA. 

It's  as  easy  as  A.B.C.  You  begin  with  a  short 
exordium. 

PANMURE. 
[His  jaw  falling.]     Oh,  lor'!    What's  that? 

JOSEPHA. 
An   introduction.      [Improvising.]      "My    dear 

friends " 

PANMURE. 
Dear  friends  ?    Not  the  servants ! 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  59 

JOSEPHA. 

Sssh,  sssh,  sssh!     "My  dear  friends " 

PANMURE. 
Hang  it  all!     Class  distinctions! 

JOSEPHA. 

"  My  dear  friends,  I  will  commence  my  little  talk 
to  you  this  evening  by  putting  a  simple  question  to 
you." 

PANMURE. 

Hold  hard!  [Walking  about.]  Let  me  get  that 
into  my  skull.  [Mumbling.]  " a  simple  ques- 
tion to  you/' 

JOSEPHA. 

""  I  ask  you,  when  we  open  our  eyes  on  the  morn- 
ing of  every  succeeding  twenty-sixth  of  January, 
whose  name  is  the  first  to  spring  to  our  lips  ?  " 

PANMURE. 
[At  the  back.]     Whose? 

JOSEPHA. 
Why,  St.  Polycarp's ! 

PANMURE. 
Oh,  of  course! 

JOSEPHA. 

"But,  lest  there  should  be  one  or  two  present 
who  have  but  an  imperfect  recollection  of  the 
salient  incidents  of  Polycarp's  career—" 


60  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

PANMURE. 
[Returning  to  her.]     I  see!    I  grasp  it! 

JOSEPHA. 

"  I  propose  that  we  briefly  refresh  our  memories 
as  to  who  and  what  Poly  carp  was." 

PANMURE. 
Oh,  it's  lovely — lovely! 

JOSEPHA. 

Then  you   give  'em   five   solid  minutes  of  St. 
Polycarp,  borrowed  from  the  Apostolic  Fathers 

PANMURE. 
It's  a  knock-out — a  blooming  knock-out! 

JOSEPHA. 
And  wind  up  with  the  deduction. 

PANMURE. 
[Blankly.]     Deduction? 

JOSEPHA. 

The  go-and-do-likewise.     Oh,  come,  you're  equal 
to  a  tag  of  twenty  or  thirty  words,  Mr.  Panmure ! 

PANMURE. 

[Rubbing  his  hands  together.]     Oh,  won't  Lottie 
be  struck  all  of  a  heap ! 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  61 

JOSEPHA. 
Hope  so. 

PANMURE. 

This'll  show  Lottie  what  I'm  worth.  [Glee- 
fully.] And  how  it'll  bore  those  parliamentary 
bounders,  won't  it  ? 

JOSEPHA. 
Ha,  ha,  ha ! 

PANMURE. 

[Pacing  tlie  room  again.]  Great  Scot,  how  it'll 
bore  'em!  [Suddenly  downcast.]  Oh,  I  say! 

JOSEPHA. 
Eh? 

PANMURE. 
The  Apostolic  Fathers  are  in  the  library! 

JOSEPHA. 
Well? 

PANMURE. 
That  stiff-necked  Stulkeley  is  in  possession  there. 

JOSEPHA. 
[Knitting  her  brows.]  Bother! 

PANMURE.- 

[Wrath  fully.]  I  am  kept  out  of  my  library  by 
him  and  that  toad  Woodhouse.  A  gentleman  under 
his  own  roof,  b'George,  is  deprived  of  the  com- 
panionship of  his  books!  It's  atrocious! 


62  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

JOSEPHA. 

Oh,  it  won't  take  a  moment  to  sneak  the  Apostolic 
Fathers.  [He  comes  to  her,  appeased.}  Just  rap 
at  the  door,  and  march  in  boldly. 

PANMURE. 

Miss  Quarendon — Josey — I'm  tremendously 
obliged  to  you ;  b' George,  I  am ! 

JOSEPHA. 
Nonsense ! 

PANMURE. 

You're  a  true  pal;  that's  what  I  reckon  you — a 
true  pal.  [Eagerly.}  There's  a  terrific  number  of 
saints'  days  in  the  Kalendar,  ain't  there  ? 

JOSEPHA. 

Nearly  enough  to  provide  you  with  material  for 
a  whole  twelvemonth. 

PANMURE. 
And  when  it  isn't  a  saint's  day ? 

JOSEPHA. 
You  can  depend  on  me  for  a  leg  up. 

PANMURE. 

[Ecstatically.}  I  dun'no  what  T  should  do  with- 
out you.  Life  'ud  be  a  blank,  b'George ! 

JOSEPHA. 

[Drawing  back.]  Thanks;  but  you — you'll  have 
to  do  without  me  some  day. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  63 

PANMURE. 

[Alarmed.}     What  d'ye  mean? 

JOSEPHA. 

When  Myrtle's  outgrown  me — goes  abroad  per- 
haps— 

PANMURE. 

She  shan't  go  abroad.  I  won't  have  it;  I'll  stop 
it! 

JOSEPHA. 

[Uncomfortably.]  I — I'm  sure  I'm  in  no  hurry 
to  leave  Myrtle  and  Lottie. 

PANMURE. 

You  shall  never  be  kicked  out  of  The  Clewers  on 
any  pretence,  I  promise  you.  [Gazing  at  her.] 
You — you're  a  dear  little  gal,  you  are. 

JOSEPHA. 
Y-y -you'll  be  behindhand  with  your  sermon. 

PANMURE. 
The  dearest  little  girl  in  the  world,  V George-! 

JOS1PHA.* 

[Nervously.]  Ha,  ha,  ha!  Do — do  get  on  with 
your  job.  [She  goes  out  at  the  door  on  the  left, 
hastily. 

PANMURE. 

Hi !  Josey !  You  might  give  me  the  words  of  the 
tag.  Josey ! 


64  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

[He  follows  her,  and  almost  immediately  a 
faint  screech  is  heard  from  JOSEPHA 
and  she  comes  running  back,  wiping  her 
lips  with  her  hand  and  with  eyes  ablaze. 
She  leans  against  a  chair  on  the  right 
as  PANMURE  appears  in  the  doorwai/ 
with  a  scared  face.  His  hair  is  dis- 
arranged and  his  necktie  disordered. 

JOSEPHA. 
[Panting.]  How  dare  you!  How  dare  you! 

PANMUEE. 
I  beg  your  pardon — I  beg  your  pardon 

JOSEPHA. 
Go  away! 

PANMURE. 

A  kiss  of  gratitude,   [Advancing.]     That's  all  it 
was — a  kiss  of  gratitude,  b'George ! 

JOSEPHA. 

[Retreating    to   the   back   of   the   round    table.] 
Don't  you  come  near  me ! 

PANMURE. 

[Piteoitsly.]     I've  apologised!     Didn't  you  hear 
me  ?     A  gentleman  can't  do  more. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Picking  up  a  plate  threateningly.]     Go  further 
off! 

PANMURE. 

[Turning  from   her,  pressing   his   temples.]      I 
never  intended  it ;  I  swear  I  never  intended  it ! 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  65 

JOSEPHA. 

Cad! 

[She  hurls  the  plate  at  him  and  it  crashes  at 
his  heels.  He  gives  a  little  leap  in  the 
air  from  fright  and  then  throws  him- 
self upon  the  settee  by  the  fireplace. 

PANMURE. 

[Moaning.]     Oh-h-h !     I  dun'no  what  possessed 
me  to  do  it.     Oh-h-h ! 

JOSEPHA. 

[Coming  from  behind  the  table,  weeping  into  her 
handkerchief.]     Oh!  Oh! 

PANMURE. 

A  kiss  of  gratitude !     Nothing  else !     A  kiss  of 
gratitude ! 

JOSEPHA. 
[Sobbing.]  Brute!  Brute! 

PANMURE. 
Oh,  do  forget  it !  Do  pass  it  over ! 

JOSEPHA. 

[Sinking  upon   the  settee   on  the  right.]      Oh, 
how  unlucky  I  am ! 

PANMURE. 
Pass  it  over  this  once ! 

JOSEPHA. 
[Rocking  herself  to  and  fro.]  How  unlucky  I 

am ! 


66  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

PANMURE. 

[Sitting  upright.]  Damn  it,  ain't  I  unlucky 
too! 

JOSEPHA. 

[Beating  her  brow.]     Oh,  and  I  thought  I  was 

in  harbour ! 

PANMURE. 

To  behave  as  well  as  I've  behaved  all  these  years, 
and  then  for  this  to  happen ! 

JOSEPHA. 

I  thought  I  was  in  harbour  for  a  while;  safely 
in  harbour ! 

PANMURE. 

[Jumping  up.]  You  are  in  harbour;  [approach- 
ing her]  you  are. 

JOSEPHA. 
[Shrinking.]     Don't  you  come  near  me! 

PANMURE. 

Look  here !  I'll  go  away  for  a  month.  I  will ! 
I'll  £0  somewhere  for  my  health.  I'm  full  o'  gout. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Getting  to  her  feet.]  Oh,  and  I've  had  such  a 
good  time  here !  [Moving  towards  the  door  in  the 
centre.]  Such  a  good  time! 

PANMURE. 
[In  a  panic.]     Ah!  Josey ! 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  67 

JOSEPHA. 
Keep  off! 

PANMURE. 
What  are  you  going  to  do? 

JOSEPHA. 
Such  a  restful,  peaceful  time! 

PANMURE. 
[Frantically.}     You're  not  going  to  tell  Lottie! 

JOSEPHA. 
[Facing  him.}     Tell  Lottie! 

PANMURE. 

Josey,    I've   behaved    so    well    all   these   years! 
You  won't  tell  Lottie ! 

JOSEPHA. 

[At  her  full  height.]     You — you — !    To  imagine 
such  a  thing! 

PANMURE. 
[Unsteadily.]     Oh,  you're — you're  a  duchess! 

[She  goes  out  and  ascends  the  stairs  as  he 
drops  upon  his  knees  to  pick  up  the 
fragments  of  china. 

END  OP  THE   FIRST  ACT. 


THE  SECOND  ACT 

The  scene  is  that  of  the  preceding  act,  but  everybody 
is  now  dressed  for  dinner. 

[MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE  is  seated  upon  the 
settee  on  the  right,  reading  a  book. 
JOSEPHA  comes  down  the  stairs  and, 
opening  the  door  in  the  centre,  looks  in 
as  if  she  is  searching  for  somebody. 
Her  face  is  pale  and  her  eyes  red  from 
weeping. 

JOSEPHA. 

Ah!  [Entering.]  Here  you  are,  dear  Mrs. 
Hebblethwaite !  [Closing  the  door.]  I've  just 
taken  the  liberty  of  going  to  your  room. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
To  find  me? 

JOSEPHA. 

[Advancing.]  To  have  a  little  chat  with  you  on 
the  quiet,  before  dinner,  if  I  could  manage  to  get  it. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[With  a  touch  of  asperity.]  I  dressed  early,  to 
set  that  organist  free  to  muddle  my  nieces.  [In- 
specting JOSEPHA  through  her  lorgnette.]  A 
sweet  frock! 

69 


70  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

JOSEPHA. 

Thank  you;  I'm  glad  you  like  it.  [Hesitat- 
ingly.] Er — Mrs.  Hebblethwaite 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Yes,  my  dear? 

JOSEPHA. 

Forgive  me  for  presuming  on  so  short  an  ac- 
quaintance. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Genially.]     Rubbish! 

JOSEPHA. 

But — will  you  give  me  your  advice  about  some- 
thing? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Certainly;  with  pleasure.  [Eyeing  JOSEPHA 
again.]  You  seem  very  upset. 

JOSEPHA. 

I?  Well,  I  am,  rather.  [Turning  away  and 
moving  about.]  I — Fve1  had  a  letter  from  a  friend 
of  mine  which  is  worrying  me  dreadfully. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
A  friend? 

JOSEPHA. 

A  girl  I  was  thick  with  in  London ;  a  girl  who's 
had  to  turn  out  into  the  world,  as  I  have.  I 
mustn't  mention  her  surname;  her  Christian  name's 
— her  Christian  name's — Milly. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  71 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
What's  Milly's  trouble? 

JOSEPHA. 

Curious,  isn't  it  ?  She's  governessing  in  the 
country  too. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Eeally? 

JOSEPHA. 

Xot  that  there's  anything  particularly  odd  about 
that,  There  are  hundreds  of  us — thousands — 
aren't  there? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

I  suppose  your  friend  isn't  quite  so  happily  placed 
as  you  are? 

JOSEPHA. 

Ah,  yes,  she  is^or  was.  There's  the  misery  of  it. 
What  do  you  think  has  happened  to  her  ? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Delicately.]     Oh,  my  dear  child! 

JOSEPHA. 
[Her  lip  trembling.]      She's — she's  been  kissed. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Kissed? 

JOSEPHA. 
[Quiveringly.]     Kissed,  kissed! 


72  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Against  her  will? 

JOSEPHA. 

Horridly.    A  wretch  of  a  man  suddenly  began  to 
make  love  to  her. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
A  man  in  the  house? 

JOSEPHA. 
Yes;  that's  the  worst  part  of  the  affair. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Belonging  to  the  house,  or  merely  a  visitor? 

JOSEPHA. 
[  Unprepared.  ]     E-eh  ? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Is  the  fellow  in  any  way  attached  to  the  house, 
or  was  he  a  guest? 

JOSEPHA. 
She — she  doesn't  say. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Married  or  single?     [JOSEPHA  shakes  her  head.] 
She  supplies  you  with  no  details? 

JOSEPHA. 
N-not  many. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  73 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
What's  her  object  in  writing  to  you? 

JOSEPHA. 
To — to  tell  me  the  news. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Dryly.]     Most  interesting. 

JOSEPHA. 
And  to  ask  what  she's  to  do. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
With  regard  to ? 

JOSEPHA. 

The  kiss. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Good  gracious  me,  she  doesn't  want  to  know 
whether  she's  to  give  a  receipt  for  it ! 

JOSEPHA. 

[Laughing  in  spite  of  herself.]  Ha,  ha,  ha! 
No,  no.  She  wants  to  know  whether  she  ought  to 
stay. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

In  the  establishment  where ? 

JOSEPHA. 
Where  it  occurred. 


74  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
I  see. 

JOSEPHA. 

And  I  thought  that,  before  I  answered  her  let- 
ter  

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
You'd  consult  some  elderly  person. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Standing  before  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE.]  With- 
out being  in  the  least  elderly,  dear  Mrs.  Hebble- 
thwaite 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Now  don't  you  try  to  humbug  me,  Miss  Josepha. 
JOSEPHA. 

Without  being  in  the  least  elderly,  you  are  older 
and  wiser  than  I  am — or  than  Nelly  is. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Nelly? 

JOSEPHA. 
[Correcting  Tier  self.]     Milly. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

H'm !  Surely  the  proper  course  for  her  to  pursue 
is  to  inform  the  mistress  of  the  house? 

JOSEPHA. 
[Quickly.]     Oh,  no,  she  wouldn't  do  that. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PAN  MURE  75 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
No? 

JOSEPHA. 

I — I  gather  she  wouldn't  do  that  on  any  account. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

The  lady's  husband,  then — if  there  is  a  husband. 
[ JOSEPHA  is  silent.]  Is  there  a  husband? 

JOSEPHA. 

Oh,  yes,  there — there's  a  husband.  But  she's 
determined  not  to -give  the  slightest  pain  to  either 
of  her  employers;  to — to — to  people  who've  been 
excessively  kind  to  her. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
That's  all  very  fine;  but  when — 

JOSEPHA. 

Oh,  no ;  she's  as  firm  as  a  rock  about  it.  She'd 
prefer  to  clear  out  without  a  word  sooner  than  dis- 
tress her  employers. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Your  friend  appears  to  be  extremely  explicit  on 
some  points  and  reticent  upon  others. 

JOSEPHA. 

She — she  is  a  bit  uncommunicative.  [Clenching 
her  hands.]  What  she  most  wants  to  be  told  is 
whether  it's  consistent  with  a  decent-minded  girl's 
self-respect  to  remain  on  the  spot  after  such  an  in- 
sult. 


76  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Keeping  it  to  herself? 

JOSEPHA. 
Keeping  it  to  herself. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Running   the   risk   of   meeting  the   man   again, 
perhaps. 

JOSEPHA. 

P-perhaps. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Well,  it's  difficult  for  anybody  as  completely  in 
the  dark  as  I  am  to  express  an  opinion. 

JOSEPHA. 
[Artlessly.]     Yes,  isn't  it! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Poor  Milly !     Has  she  anything  to  reproach  her- 
self with,  do  you  imagine? 

JOSEPHA. 
Reproach  herself  with? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Has  she  ever  given  the  scamp  the  smallest  en- 
couragement ? 

JOSEPHA. 

No,  no — !     [Checking  herself.}     Not  intention- 
ally; I  swear  she  hasn't. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  77 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Sighing.]      Of  course,  she's  good-looking? 

JOSEPHA. 
[With  a  pathetic  little  nod.]     H'm. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Decidedly  pretty? 

JOSEPHA. 
H'm. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

The  old  story !  What  a  curse  beauty  is  to  women 
who  have  to  earn  their  living ! 

JOSEPHA. 
[Pensively.]     Except  on  the  stage,  or 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Rising.]  Oh,  I  wish  there  were  more  women 
cursed  with  it  on  the  stage.  [Laying  her  book  aside 
and  crossing  to  the  fireplace.]  Well,  it  doesn't  do 
to  apply  exactly  the  same  standards  of  conduct  to 
those  who  work  for  their  bread-and-butter  as  to 
other  people.  [Warming  her  hands  at  the  fire.]  I 
take  it  that  the  loss  of  her  position  would  be  a  seri- 
ous thing  for  Miss  Milly? 

JOSEPHA. 

Ah,  yes,  yes ;  every  way !  Girls  who've  once  been 
petted  and  spoilt,  and  made  princesses  of,  can't 
stand  these  knock-down  blows  as  others  can.  [Pas- 
sionately.] It's  cruel !  [Sitting  at  the  round 


78  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

table.}  Just  as  she  was  getting  her  pluck  back  and 
learning  to  throw  her  chest  out  again !  [Losing 
control  of  herself  and  leaning  her  head  upon  her 
hands.]  Oh,  it's  too,  too  rough! 

[There  is  a  pause,  and  then  MRS.  HEBBLE- 
THWAITE  slowly  turns  and  looks  at 
JOSEPHA  half  wonderingly,  half  sus- 
piciously. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[After  the  silence,  advancing  a  few  steps  and 
speaking  in  an  altered  tone.]  Miss  Quarendon. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Raising  her  head  hastily.]     Yes? 
MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
You're  exceedingly  fond  of  this  friend  of  yours ! 

JGSEPHA. 
Yes,  I — I  am. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

You  take  her  misfortune  very  much  to  heart,  at 
any  rate. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Uneasily.]  Oh,  well — [Lowering  her  eyes  un- 
der MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE'S  gaze  and  rising]  it  is 
rough  on  her,  isn't  it?  [There  is  another  pause. 
JOSEPHA  plays  awkwardly  with  her  fingers.}  Oh, 
I — I've  left  a  ring  upstairs. 

[She  makes  a  movement  towards  the  door  in 
the  centre.  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE  in- 
tercepts her. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  79 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Quietly.]     Tell  me,  dear,  when  did  you  receive 
the  letter? 

JOSEPHA. 

F-from ? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
From  Milly. 

JOSEPHA. 
[Promptly.]     This  morning. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
This    morning?      Then    you    have    known    all 

day ? 

JOSEPHA. 

[Hurriedly.]     What  am  I  saying?     I  mean  the 
second  post. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
That's  the  one  o'clock  post? 
JOSEPHA. 
Y-yes? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

But  you  were  as  merry  as  a  cricket  during  the 
afternoon.     And  now,  quite  suddenly— 

JOSEPHA. 

[Boldly.]     I  didn't  open  the  letter. 
MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Didn't  open  it? 


80  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

JOSEPHA. 

No;  I  threw  it  unopened  into  my  dressing-table 
drawer.  I  kept  it  to  read  later  on. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Raising  her  eyebrotvs.]     No  curiosity,  eh? 
JOSEPHA. 

Fd  no  idea  it  contained  what  it  did.  How  could 
I  have  had!  [Smiling  politely.]  Any  further 
questions,  Mrs.  Hebblethwaite  ? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Oh,  my  dear,  don't  think  me  rude.  [BRABNER 
enters  at  the  door  in  the  centre  carrying  some 
London  evening  newspapers  which  he  proceeds  to 
arrange  upon  the  round  table.  Talcing  advantage 
of  the  interruption,  JOSEPHA  passes  MRS.  HEBBLE- 
THWAITE and,  very  softly,  goes  out  at  the  door  on 
the  left.  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE  stands  for  a  mo- 
ment contemplating,  with  an  unsatisfied  air,  the 
door  at  which  JOSEPHA  has  disappeared  and  then 
turns  to  BRABNER  and  watches  his  operations 
thoughtfully.]  Are  there  three  posts  then, 
Brabner  ? 

BRABNER. 

No,  m'm.  The  evenin'  papers  are  dropped  out 
•at  Toll  shunt  by  the  train  that  runs  through  at  six 
fifty-seven.  The  porter  brings  'em  up  to  the  house. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Slowly  moving  to  the  fireplace.]     Brabner. 

BRABNER. 
Yes  m'm? 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  81 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Miss  Quarendon  and  I  have  been  having  a  dis- 
cussion about  a  letter  which  she  received  to-day. 

BRABNER. 
To-day,  m'm?     By  'and? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

'No;  by  post.  She  can't  recollect  whether  it  came 
by  the  early  morning  post  or  by  the  post  which  gets 
here  shortly  before  lunch. 

BRABNER. 

Miss  Josey  must  be  making  a  mistake,  m'm. 
MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

A  mistake? 

BRABNER. 

Miss  Josey's  had  no  letters  to-day,  m'm,  by  the 
post;  neither  to-day  nor  yesterday. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Facing    liim,    insinuatingly.]      Now,    Brabner, 
how  can  you  possibly  know? 
BRABNER. 

[Going  to  the  door.]  The  letters  are  alwavs  de- 
livered at  the  tradesmen's  door,  m'm,  and  I  sort 
them  myself  in  the  'ousekeeper's  room. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

I've  misunderstood  Miss  Josey,  Brabner,  evi- 
dently. 

BRABNER. 
Yes,    m'm.      [MYRTLE,    dressed   most   unbecom- 


82  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

ingly,  has  come  down  the  stairs  and  now  enters  at 
the  door  in  the  centre.  BRABNER,  in  leaving,  nearly 
falls  over  her.]  I  beg  your  pardon,  missy. 

MYRTLE. 

[Ruffled.]     Careless !     [BRABNER  departs,  closing 
the  door.]     Where's  Josepha? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Crossing  to  the  right,  endeavoring  to  preserve  a 
calm  demeanour.]     She  was  here  a  moment  since. 

MYRTLE. 
Is  she  better? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Sharply.]     Better? 

MYRTLE. 
She  wasn't  at  all  herself  an  hour  or  two  ago. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
She  looks  out  of  sorts  still. 

MYRTLE. 

[Shrugging  her  shoulders.]     I  can't  guess  what 
ails  her. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
She  says  she's  had  an  upsetting  letter. 

MYRTLE. 
[Peevishly.]     Oh,  it  isn't  any  letter,  great-aunt. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  8.] 

MRS.  HEBBLETI-IWAITE. 
[Eagerly.]     No? 

MYRTLE. 

[Sitting  in  the  arm-chair  by  the  fauteuil-stool, 
and  tugging  at  a  wrinkled  stocking.]  I  fancy  she 
has  injured  her  face  in  some  way. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Coming  to  MYRTLE.]     Injured  her  face? 

MYRTLE. 

Yes.  After  I'd  laid  down  for  a  little  while  this 
afternoon,  I  thought  I'd  go  along  to  her  room  and 
resume  an  argument  we  had  engaged  in  before  tea. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Well? 

MYRTLE. 

And  when  I  opened  her  door  I  found  her  laving 
her  face  in  a  basin  full  of  water,  and  then  rubbing 
it  as  though  she'd  tear  the  skin  off. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Yes — yes  ? 

MYRTLE. 

I  said,  "  What's  the  matter,  Josepha  ?  " ;  and  she 
burst  out  crying.  I  had  to  speak  quite  sternly  to 
her. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
The — injury ? 


84  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

MYRTLE. 

Then  she  resumed  her  scouring,  saying  "  Oh ! 
Oh !  Oh !  I  shall  never  get  my  lips  nice  again, 
Myrtle ;  never  !  " 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Her  lips ! 

MYRTLE. 
Lips. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Her  lips! 

MYRTLE. 

[Rolling  her  head  from  side  to  side.]  Tsch! 
Isn't  my  enunciation  distinct,  great-aunt? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Walking  about  in  agitation.]  Oh,  don't  keep 
on  calling  me  great-aunt,  child;  you  make  me  feel 
so  stout!  [Halting.]  What  then? 

MYRTLE. 

Oh,  then  she  requested  me  to  leave  her  to  herself ; 
and  as  it  is  not  my  practice  to  bestow  my  presence 

where  it  is  not  wholly  acceptable 

[HEBBLETHWAITE  has  come  downstairs  and 
now  enters  at  the  door  in  the  centre. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[To  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE.]  Ha,  old  lady! 
Glad  to  SOP  you're  down.  [Closing  the  door.] 
Punctual  for  once,  hey  ?  Ha,  ha,  ha !  I'm  as 
hungry  as  a  hunter.  [To  MYRTLE.]  Going  to 
make  a  big  dinner,  Myrtle? 


PRESERVING  MR.  PAN  MURE  85 

MYRTLE. 
[Rising.]     I  shall  eat  sufficient,  great-uncle. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Sufficient!  [Chuckling.]  So  shall  I,  I  promise 
you. 

MYRTLE. 

[Squatting  before  the  fire  and  stretching  out  her 
hands  to  the  blaze.}  But  I  eat  to  live;  I  don't  live 
to  eat. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Ho,  ho,  ho ! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Standing  by  the  settee  on  the  right — in  a  strange 
voice.]  Alfred. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Going  to  her.]     Hey? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Outturally.]  When  we  went  upstairs  after 
tea — Lottie,  Dulcie,  Miss  Quarendon,  and  I — what 
became  of  all  you  men? 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Oh,  we  spread  about. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Glancing  at  MYRTLE.]     Sssh! 
HEBBLETHWAITE. 

/  had  a  chat  with  St.  John  and  then  joined 
Stulkeley  in  the  library. 


86  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
How  long  were  you  there  ? 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
H'm — quarter-of-an-hour  or  so. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
And  afterwards? 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Rubbing  Us  chin.]     What  did  I  do? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Breathing  heavily.]     Did — did  Miss  Quarendon 
come  downstairs  again? 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Miss  Josey? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Miss  Quarendon! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Surprised  at  her  manner.]     Why? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Never   mind    why.      I've    a   reason    for   asking. 
[Fiercely.]     Alfred ! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Disconcerted.]     Ye-ye-ye-yes,  I  believe  she  did. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  87 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
You  believe ! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

In  fact,,  I — er — I — er 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Ah  !     You  know  she  did ! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Corry ! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Faintly.]  Oh,  no,  no  !  [Sitting  upon  the  settee 
behind  her.}  You  couldn't — you  couldn't  be  so 
wicked ! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Wicked ! 

[MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE  sinks  back,  closing 
her  eyes,  and  HEBBLETHWAITE  stares  at 
her  in  dismay.  WOODHOUSE  and  LOR- 
ING  have  come  down  the  stairs  and  now 
enter.  They  appear  to  be  on  excellent 
terms,  and  LORIXG  has  recovered  his 
spirits.  MYRTLE  scrambles  to  her  feet 
and  retires  to  the  further  settee,  where 
she  sits  stiffly. 

WooDHOtrsE. 

[To  LORING.]  That's  understood,  then,  my  dear 
Mr.  Loring. 

LORING. 
A  bargain. 


88  PRESERVING  MR.  PAN  MURE 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[To  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE,  in  an  undertone.] 
Corry,  don't  be  stupid. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[To  LORING.]  And  you'll  drop  me  a  line  to  100 
St.  James's  Street? 

LORING. 
[Assentingly .]     A  reg'lar  night  of  it,  hey! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[To  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE.]     What's  taken  you? 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Moving  to  the  fireplace,  followed  by  LORING.] 
Her  Grace  is  really  a  remarkable  artist 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Corry — Corry 

WOODHOUSE. 

And  the  shock  of  seeing  her  exhibit  herself  in  a 
music-hall  gives  you  quite  an  agreeable  sensation 
in  the  spine. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Mopping  his  brow  with  his  handkerchief.] 
Ph-e-e-w!  [MRS.  PANMURE  a/icrDuLciE  have  come 
down  the  stairs  and  now  enter.  MRS.  PANMURE  is 
dressed  in  black  and  on  her  breast  is  pinned  the 
badge  of  the  Guild  of  Fine  Souls.  MRS.  HEBBLE- 
THWAITE opens  her  eyes  and,  with  a  jerk,  sits  up- 
right as  HEBBLETHWAITE  turns  to  MRS.  PANMURE 
and  DULCIE  with  an  assumption  of  cheerfulness.] 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  89 

Ah,  my  dears!     Charming  gowns  you're  wearing. 
You  look  amazingly  handsome  in  black,  Lottie. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Humbly.}     I  love  black;  but  with  no  thought  of 
looking  handsome  in  it,  uncle. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Discovering  the  badge.}     Hallo!     What's 'that? 
That's  a  pretty  thing. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

Didn't  you  notice  it  last  night?    It's  the  badge  of 
a  guild  I  belong  to. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Putting  on  his  pince-nez.]     A  guild? 

DULCIE. 
The  Guild  of  Fine  Souls,  uncle  Alfred. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Examining  the  badge.]     O'ho? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

Instituted  by  the  dear  rector  of  Polehampton — 
Mr.  Pruyn. 

DULCIE. 
Lottie  is  the  first  member. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
And  a  most  unworthy  one, 


QO  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Who  lias  come  forward.]  Guild  of  Pine  Souls! 
[Flippantly.]  Oh,  no,  not  actually!  [MRS. 
PANMURE  turns  her  eyes  upon  him.]  What  are  the 
qualifications  for  membership? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[In  meek  reproof.]  Modesty  and  humility  are 
among  them,  Mr.  Woodhouse. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Abashed.]  Oh — ah — [rejoining  LORING  at  the 
fireplace]  I  fear  I  am  not  eligible. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
A  heart,  isn't  it  ? 

DULCIE. 
And  a  pair  of  wings  sprouting  from  it. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Gold? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
No;  gat. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[TF/io  has  regained  her  composure,  stonily.] 
There  are  two  ways  of  spelling  "  gilt." 

[HEBBLETHWAITE,     MRS.     PANMURE     and 
DULCIE  turn  to  her. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Two  ways,  auntie? 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  91 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
G-u-i-1-t  is  one  of  them. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Apprehensively.]     Corry — 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

Auntie  dear!  [HEBBLETHWAITE  hastily  crosses 
to  the  fireplace  and  engages  WOODHOUSE  and  LOR- 
ING  in  conversation.]  Aren't  you  feeling  well? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Fairly,  Lottie;  thank  you. 
DULCIE. 

[Unfolding  a  newspaper  at  the  round  table.] 
Ha,  ha!  Because  aunt  Corisande  indulges  in  a 
harmless  little  pun,  she  is  accused  of  being  indis- 
posed. 

[PANMURE  has  come  downstairs  and  now 
enters.  He  casts  a  glance  round  the 
room,  not  altogether  free  from  anxiety, 
and  then  approaches  MRS.  PANMURE. 

PANMURE. 
Not  late,  I  hope? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
No,  dear. 

PANMURE. 

[Reassured,  drawing  MRS.  PANMURE  away  from 
MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE  and  affording  her  a  glimpse 
of  a  manuscript  of  several  sheets  which  is  in  his 


92  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

breast-pocket.]     I  stayed  in  my  dressing-room  till 
the  last  moment,  polishing  this  up. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

Is  that  your ? 

PANMURE. 
[Nodding.]     My  discourse  for  to-night. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[A  note  of  severity  in  her  voice.]  I  sincerely 
trust,  St.  John 

PANMURE. 

Oh,  you  need  have  no  misgivings,  my  dear  Lottie. 
[Tapping  his  breast-pocket.]  Though  I  say  it,  who 
perhaps  oughtn't  to 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
What  is  your  subject? 

PANMURE. 

Guess.  [She  shakes  her  head.]  Three  shots! 
[She  reflects.]  A  dozen,  and  I  bet  you  don't  hit 
the  bottle. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[Gently.]     St.  John! 

PANMURE. 
[In  a  tone  of  triumph.]     Lottie ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Eh? 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  93 

PANMURE. 
What  price  St.  Polycarp ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
St.  Polycarp! 

PANMURE. 

Yes ;  I'm  giving  you  a  concise  history  of  the  dear 
old — of  the — er — of  the  aged  bishop  from  the  word 
go. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[Her  eyes  sparkling.}     Why,  to-day  is ! 

PANMURE. 

Exactly.  I've  had  the  scheme  in  my  head  for  a 
long  while. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Scheme? 

PANMURE. 

Whenever  my  sermon  falls  due  on  a  saint's 
day 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[Pressing  his  hand  stealthily.]     Ah! 

PANMURE. 

My  dear  Lottums,  I  shouldn't  be  ashamed  if 
Pruyn  himself  heard  me  to-night;  b'George,  I 
shouldn't. 

[STULKELEY  has  come  down  the  stairs  and 
now  enters.  PANMURE  joins  the  men  at 
the  fireplace. 


94  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

STULKELEY. 

A  thousand  apologies!  [To  MRS.  PANMURE.] 
Have  I  kept  you  waiting? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

No.  [Looking  round  the  room.]  You  are  not 
even  the  last.  [STULKELEY  joins  the  group  at  the 
fireplace.]  Where  is  Miss  Quarendon?  [Seeing 
MYRTLE.]  Ah,  Myrtle  darling,  what  have  you  done 
with  Josey  ? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
My  impression  is  she  is  in  the  morning-room. 

MYRTLE. 

[Opening    the    door   on    the    left   and    calling.] 

Josepha — Josepha 

[MYRTLE  goes  into  the  next  room  as 
BRABNER  enters  at  the  door  in  the 
centre. 

BRABNER. 

Dinner  is  served. 

[BRABNER  unbolts  and  opens  the  other  half 
of  the  double-door  as  MYRTLE  reappears 
with  JOSEPHA. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[To  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE.]  Dear  me!  How 
white  poor  Josey  looks ! 

DULCIE. 
[Overhearing  MRS.  PANMURE.]     Ghastly. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  95 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
What's  the  cause  of  it? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[To  MRS.  PANMURE  and  DULCIE — rising.]  I 
think  I  can  tell  you.  [Summoning  DULCIE  to  her.] 
Dulcie — [ DULCIE  comes  to  the  back  of  the  settee 
on  the  right.]  Lottie — girls — the  devil  is  in  this 
house. 

MRS.  PANMURE  and  DULCIE. 
The  devil! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
In  the  shape  of  a  man. 

DULCIE. 
What  man  ? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Which  man? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
That  we  have  to  find  out. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Scared.]     Oh,  but,  auntie 

DULCIE. 
Aunt  Corisande ! 

MRS.  HELBLETHWAITE. 
After  dinner. 

MRS.  PANMURE  and  DULCIE. 
Oh ! 


96  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

After  dinner.  [To  MRS.  PANMURE,  firmly.]  In 
the  meantime,  Lottie,  do  your  duty  as  hostess. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[To    PANMURE,    collecting    herself.]      S-S    St. 

John — St.  John 

PANMURE. 
[Turning  to  her.]     Hallo  ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

T-t-take  auntie,  please.  [PANMURE  advances  and 
gives  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE  his  arm.]  Mr.  Lor- 
ing — Dulcie.  [LoRiNG,  with  a  defiant  air,  goes 
to  DULCIE.  Averting  her  head  disdainfully,  she 
keeps  him  at  as  great  a  distance  as  is  possible  in  the 
circumstances.]  Uncle,  will  you  bring  Miss 
Quarendon  ? 

[MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE,  who  is  going  out 
with  PANMURE,  staggers. 

PANMURE. 

[To  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE.]  Hold  up,  Corry! 
Twisted  a  fetlock  ? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[To  WOODHOUSE.]  Mr.  Woodhouse — my  little 
daughter. 

[HEBBLETHWAITE  takes  JOSEPH  A,  WOOD- 
HOUSE  takes  MYRTLE.  Then  MRS. 
PANMURE  puts  her  arm  through 
STULKELEY'S  and  the  curtain  falls.  It 
rises  again  almost  immediately.,  show- 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  97 

ing  the  room  in  semi-darkness.  After 
a  pause,  KITTS  enters  at  the  door  in 
the  centre  and  switches  on  the  lights 
and  mends  the  fire.  While  he  is  at  the 
fireplace,  the  ladies  return  from  the 
dining-room. — MRS.  HEBBLETIIWAITE 
entering  with  MRS.  PANMURE;  DULCIE, 
MYRTLE,  and  JOSEPHA  following.  MRS. 
HEBBLETHWAITE,  MRS.  PANMURE,  and 
JOSEPHA  sit — MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE 
upon  the  settee  on  the  right,  MRS. 
PANMURE  at  the  round  table }  and 
JOSEPHA  on  the  settee  at  the  back. 
MYRTLE  and  DULCIE  remain  standing— 
the  former  talking  to  JOSEPHA,  DULCIE 
beside  MRS.  PANMURE. 

DULCIE. 

[Her  eyes  flashing  with  suppressed  excitement.] 
That  will  do,  Kitts.    Get  out ! 

KITTS. 
Yes,  miss. 

[He  withdraws  at  the  door  on  the  left, 
DULCIE  whispers  into  MRS.  PANMURE'S 
ear. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Turning  to  JOSEPHA.]     Josey  dear. 

JOSEPHA. 
Yes,  Lottie? 

MYRTLE. 

[To  MRS.  PANMURE,  annoyed.]     I  am  talking  to 
Josepha,  mother. 


98  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

MRS.  PANMURE, 

Josey,  dear,  will  you  and  darling  Myrtle  play 
your  duets  on  the  morning-room  piano?  We  shall 
hear  you  quite  clearly. 

MYRTLE. 
I  am  disinclined  for  music  to-night. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Myrtle ! 

JOSEPHA. 

[Who  has  risen.]  Oh,  Myrtle,  what  does  it  feel 
like  to  be  so  ungracious? 

MYRTLE. 
[Tartly.]     Very  pleasant. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Leading  her  to  the  door  on  the  left.]  Come, 
Myr. 

MYRTLE. 

[To  everybody.]  A  more  constrained  and  uncom- 
fortable dinner  I  have  seldom  assisted  at. 

JOSEPHA. 

Myr — Myr 

MYRTLE. 

This  is  the  climax  of  a  most  depressing  evening. 
[JOSEPHA  and  MYRTLE  go  out,  leaving  the 
door  open. 

DULCIE. 

[In  a  low  voice,  to  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE.] 
Well! 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  99 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[To  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE.]     Auntie? 

DULCIE. 
Make  haste,  aunt  Corisande ! 

MRS.  HEEBLETHWAITE. 
[Diving  for  her  handkerchief .]      Ch-child-ren — 

DULCIE. 
[Impatiently.]     Oh,  my  goodness! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Children,  the  devil  is  in  our  midst. 

DULCIE. 
Yes,  yes;  you've  informed  us  of  that. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
In  a  man's  shape,  you  say? 
DULCIE. 
How  does  it  concern  Josepha? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Wiping      her      eyes.]        Lottie — Dulcie — Miss 
Quarendon  has  been  kissed. 

DULCIE. 
Kissed ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Josey  has ! 


too  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

DULCIE. 
When — where? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

This  afternoon — in  this  house — made  love  to 
scandalously. 

[JOSEPHA  and  MYRTLE  strike  up  a  duet.  At 
the  same  moment,  BRABNER  and  KITTS 
enter  at  the  centre  door  with  coffee 
and  liqueurs.  MRS.  PANMURE'S  hand  is 
so  unsteady  that  she  upsets  her  coffee- 
cup. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Feebly.}     Pm  sorry.      [Declining.]     No  coffee. 
[BRABNER  comes  to  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE 
and  the  same  accident  occurs. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Oh !  How  clumsy  I  am !  [Declining.]  Xo 
coffee. 

[KiTTS  brings  the  liqueurs  to  MRS.  HEBBLE- 
THWAITE and  she  waves  him  away. 
BRABNER  carries  the  coffee  tray  to 
DULCIE  who,  with  a  shaky  hand, 
attempts  to  take  a  cup  and  fails. 

DULCIE. 

[Putting  her  hands  behind  her  back  with  great 
dignity.]  Thank  you;  no  coffee.  [BRABNER  and 
KITTS  are  going  out  at  the  door  on  the  left  when  she 
calls  to  KITTS.]  Kitts!  [ KITTS  returns.]  You 
pour  me  out  a  liqueur  of  brandy,  [pointing  to  the 
table  behind  the  settee  by  the  fireplace]  and  put 
it  down  on  that  table  without  spilling  any. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  101 

[KiTTS  does  so  and  then  follows  BRABNER 
into  the  next  room.  DULCIE  closes  the 
door  carefully  after  KITTS,  killing  the 
sound  of  the  music. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[To  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE.]     Oh,  auntie! 

DULCIE. 
[To  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE.]     Who  has  done  it? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Who  is  he? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
I've  told  you,  that  is  what  we  have  to  get  at. 

DULCIE. 
[Advancing.]     But  how  do  you  know— 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

I've  heard  it  from  her  own  lips.  Her  lips ! 
[Rising  and  crossing  to  the  left  where  she  walks 
about.}  She  has  been  kissed  on  the  lips. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
The  lips ! 

DULCIE. 

[To  MRS.  PANMURE.]  Don't  be  silly.  Men 
don't  kiss  girls  on  their  noses.  [To  MRS.  HEBBLE- 
THWAITE.] Heard  it  from  her? 


102  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[Rising.]     From  Josepha  herself? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Joining  the  others  in  the  middle  of  the  room;} 
I  was  sitting  here,  dressed  for  dinner,  reading  a 
hook — "  Beauties  of  English  Country  Life  " — and 
she  popped  her  head  in  at  the  door.  She  had  been 
looking  for  me — wanted  my  advice — 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
*  Advice? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

She'd  had  a  letter  to-day  from  a  friend — Miss 
Milly  Something-or-other — a  governess  like  herself, 
who'd  been  kissed,  violently,  by  a  man  in  the  house. 
No  details  were  given.  Her  friend  simply  wished  to 
be  advised  as  to  whether  she  could  continue  in  her 
situation  decently,  holding  her  tongue. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
But  what  has  this  to  do  with  Josepha  ? 

DULCIE. 
Shut  up,  Lottie ! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Oh,  I  saw  through  it  all  in  a  moment.  She  was 
shaking  from  head  to  foot,  and  her  colour — you  re- 
marked her  colour ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
You  didn't  charge  her  with  being  the  girl? 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  103 

MKS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

I  was  hinting  at  it  when  Brabner  brought  in  the 
papers,  and  she  crept  out.  Then  I  pumped 
Brabner.  Miss  Quarendon  has  received  no  letter 
to-day ;  and  she  was  as  jolly  as  a  sand-boy  till  we  all 
went  upstairs  after  tea! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[Confused.]     After  tea? 

DULCIE. 

[Her  mind  working.]     After  tea! 
MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

And  then  in  came  Myrtle,  inquiring  for  her. 
Earlier  in  the  evening  the  child  had  been  to  Miss 
Josey's  room  and  discovered  the  young  lady  in  tears 
and  scrubbing  her  face.  Myrtle  asked  what  was 
wrong,  and  the  reply  was,  "  Oh,  I  shall  never  get 
my  lips  nice  again ;  never !  " 

DULCIE. 

Oh,  that  fixes  it ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Horrible ! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Moving  to  the  fireplace.]     Infamous! 
DULCIE. 

[To  MRS.  PANMURE.]  'Now  I  hope  you're 
satisfied ! 


104  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

Satisfied ! 

DULCIE. 
Bringing  this  person  to  The  Clewers ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
There  is  nothing  in  this  against  Josey ! 

DULCIE. 

Nothing !  Do  you  believe  that  a  man  ever  kisses 
a  girl — !  However,  we  won't  discuss  that.  [Tu 
MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE.]  Did  Miss  Quarendon 
come  down  again,  I  wonder,  after  the  lot  of  us  went 
upstairs  together? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Yes. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Yes. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

I  came  down,  myself,  at  about  seven  o'clock,  to 
fetch  my  work,  and  I  found  a  novel  of  hers  in  the 
morning-room.  It  wasn't  there  before  tea. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
I've  a  better  piece  of  evidence  than  that. 

DULCIE. 
You  have! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Your  uncle  Alfred — your  uncle  Alfred — !  He — 
he  has  admitted  to  me ! 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  105 

DULCIE. 

[Opening  her  eyes.}     Admitted ! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

He  has  admitted  having  seen  her  downstairs  after 
tea.  [Putting  her  hand  to  her  bosom.]  Oh,  Lottie 
— oh,  Dulcie !  [Sinking  into  the  arm-chair  by  the 
fauteuil-stool.]  Oh,  my  dears! 

DULCIE. 

[Under  her  breath.]  Oh-h-h!  [To  MRS. 
PANMURE,  in  a  whisper.]  Crikey! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[To  DULCIE.]  No,  no!  [ DULCIE  shrugs  her 
shoulders.  MRS.  PANMURE  hurries  to  MRS.  HEB- 
BLETHWAITE.] Oh,  no,  auntie ! 

DULCIE. 

[Also  going  to  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE.]  Im- 
possible ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

She  would  never  have  had  the  effrontery,  if  uncle 
Alfred  had  so  far  forgotten  himself,  to  come  to  you 
for  advice.  , 

DULCIE. 
Oh,  she'd  have  the  cheek  to  do  anything. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Dulcie ! 

MRS.  HEBELETHWAITE. 

[Tearfully.]  My  dears,  this  would  not  be  the 
first  time  your  uncle  has  stabbed  me  to  the  heart. 


106  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

DULCIE. 

[Sitting  upon  the  fauteuil-stooL]     No! 
Mus.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Years  ago — at  Harrogate — a  creature  in  the  hotel 
— a  hussy  with  a  ridiculous  waist — 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Taking  MRS.  HEBBLETH WAITERS  hand.]     Ah! 
MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

I  walked  on  to  the  tennis-court  one  morning  and 
confronted  them. 

DULCIE. 
[With  zest.]     What  happened? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Struggling  to  her  feet  and  walking  away  to  the 
right.]  I  was  fined  a  shilling  for  damaging  the 
turf  with  my  heels. 

DULCIE. 

[To  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE.]  With  regard  to 
Miss  Quarendon,  you  haven't  positively  accused 
uncle  Alfred,  have  you? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Not  yet. 

DULCIE. 

He  isn't  the  only  man  here.  It  does  seem  rather 
unfair,  I  must  say 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  107 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Suddenly.]     Oh! 

DULCIE  and  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Turning  to  her.]     Eh? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[Holding  her  head.]     Oh-h-h  ! 

DULCIE  and  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Lottie ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[Walking  about.]     Don't  speak  to  me! 

DULCIE  and  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Hastening  to  her.]    No,  no  ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[Appealingly.]     Please! 

DULCIE. 

Dear  old  St.  John !    He  never  gives  her  as  much 
as  a  glance. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

He  doesn't  dance  attendance  upon  her,  handing 
her  plates  and  dishes. 

DULCIE. 
Not  he ! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Lottie,  dearest -! 


io8  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

DULCIE. 

[Suddenly.]     Oh! 

MRS.  PANMURE  and  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Eh? 

DULCIE. 

Oh-h-h!      [Drawing  a  deep   breath.]      Why,   of 
course ! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Of  course ? 

DULCIE. 

[Bursting  into  a  peal  of  hard  laughter.]     Ha,  ha, 
ha,  ha ! 

MRS.  PANMURE  and  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Clinging  to  her.]     Dulcie ! 

DULCIE. 

Leave  me  alone  !     [Walking  about.]    Yes,  they've 
commenced  their  coaching  in  good  earnest ! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Coaching  ? 

DULCIE. 

He  proposed  getting  her  to  give  him  an  hour  or 
two's  coaching  three  days  a  week !    Ha,  ha  ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Dulcie,  calm  yourself ! 

DULCIE. 
He  said  he'd  make  it  thoroughly  worth  her  wlqdle. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  109 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Bewildered.]     I  don't  understand 

DULCIE. 

[Seizing  MRS.  PANMURE  and  MRS.  HEBBLE- 
THWAITE.] Understand  this,  you  people !  I  haven't 
much  use  for  Hughie 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Dulcie ! 

DULCIE. 

But  I'm  two-and-thirty,  and  I  missed  my  tip  in 
town ;  and,  such  as  he  is,  he's  my  prize-packet ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

Dulcie,  listen ! 

DULCIE. 

[Extending  her  fingers.]  And  if  I  catch  him 
meddling  with  any  other  girl,  or  any  girl  meddling 
with  him,  I  wring  her  neck!  [Sitting  upon  the 
settee  on  the  right.]  Take  notice,  everybody!  I 
wring  her  neck ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Feebly.]  Oh,  Dulcie — oh,  aunt  Coiisande — how 
can  we  be  so  sinful  as  to  rush  at  conclusions  in  this 
way! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
What  are  conclusions  for? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
It's  monstrous  of  us  to  credit  those  nearest  and 


no  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

dearest   to   us   with   being  capable   of  this   crime; 
monstrous ! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Who  is  the  villain,  then? 

MBS.  PANMURE. 

[Clasping  her  hands.]  Heaven  forgive  me  if  I 
do  an  injustice  to  a  stranger  within  my  gates ! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Mr.  Stulkeley — Mr.  Woodhouse ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
They  are  both  bachelors! 

DULCIE. 
Hughie  is  a  bachelor. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
An  engaged  man  is  hardly  a  bachelor. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Married  men  are  viler  than  bachelors. 
DULCIE. 

[Starting  up.]  Bah!  What  are  we  jabbering 
here  for,  among  ourselves !  The  thing  to  do  is  to 
have  her  in. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[In  a  flutter.]     And  interrogate  her  ? 


PRESERVING  MR.  PAN  MURE  in 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Excitedly.}    Yes,  yes,  yes ;  and  watch  her  throat. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Her  throat ! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Her  throat.  Children,  your  uncle  was  robbed  of 
some  valuable  shirt-studs  at  Christmas,  and  we 
suspected  an  under-honsemaid.  The  police  in- 
structed us  not  to  take  our  eyes  off  her  throat  while 
she  was  answering  our  questions.  If  she  gulped— 

DULCIE. 
She  was  swallowing'  a  lie ! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
It's  an  infallible  test. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

And  did  she- ? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Swallow?     Repeatedly. 

DULCIE. 
[Vindictively.}     Ah! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

The  worst  of  it  was — the  little  wretch ! — she  had 
already  swallowed  the  shirt-studs. 


H2  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

[MRS.  PANMURE  makes  for  the  door  on  the 
left  with  uncertain  steps.  On  her  way, 
she  picks  up  the  liqueur-glass  and  puts 
it  to  her  lips.  DULCIE  rushes  at  her. 

DULCIE. 

[Taking  the  glass  from  her.]     We  are  all  feeling 
faint,  Lottie. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Taking  the  glass  from  DULCIE.]     Thank  you. 

[MRS.  PANMURE  opens  the  door  on  the  left. 
The  piano  is  heard  again. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[Calling.]     Josepha 

DULCIE. 

[To      MRS.      HEBBLETHWAITE.]         Christopher 
Columbus  !     Spare  me  a  drop,  aunt ! 

[MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE  yields  up  the  glass 
and  sits  at  the  further  side  of  the  round 
table.  DULCIE  seats  herself  upon  the 
settee  on  the  right. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

Josepha — Myrtle !      [The   music  ceases  and 

JOSEPHA   and   MYRTLE   appear   in    the    doorway.] 
M}Trtle  darling,  I  wish  you  to  go  to  bed. 

MYRTLE. 
To  bed ! 


PRESERVING  MR.  PAN  MURE  113 

MRS.  PANMIIRE. 

[Sitting  at  the  round  table.]  Kun  upstairs  at 
once  and  ring  for  Wilson. 

MYRTLE. 
[Advancing.]     This  is  extremely  abrupt. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

It  is  past  nine.  [Holding  out  her  arms  to 
MYRTLE.]  Good  night. 

MYRTLE. 

[Drawing  back.]  No,  mother;  if  you  can  dis- 
pense with  ceremonjr,  I  can.  [At  the  door  in  the 
centre,  haughtily.]  I  shall  remember  this  occasion, 
if  I  live  to  be  thirty. 

[She  departs  and  ascends  the  stairs. 
JOSEPHA,  on  tip-toe,  is  about  to  follow 
her. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

Josepha.  [JOSEPHA  halts.]  Pray  stay  where 
you  are.  Sit  down.  [JOSEPHA  sits,  facing  the 
round  table,  upon  the  fauteuil-stool.  MRS.  PAN- 
MURE  softens.]  Oh?  Josey  dear,  is  it  true? 

JOSEPHA. 
[Almost  inaudibly.]     True? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
That  you  have  been — kissed? 

JOSEPHA. 
K-kissed? 


ii4  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

DULCIE. 

Oh^  Lottie,  do  be  more  explicit.    Naturally,  Miss 
Quarendon  has  been  kissed— 


MRS.  PANMURE. 
Allow  me,  Dulcie 

DULCIE. 
Often  and  often. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[To  JOSEPHA.]     I  mean,  by — by  some  man 

DULCIE. 
Well,  of  course! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
The  devil  in  disguise! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
In  my  house — improperly — 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
This  afternoon. 

DULCIE. 
Since  tea. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[After  a  silence.]     I  am  waiting  for  your  reply, 
Josepha. 

[There    is    a    further    silence,    and    then 
JOSEPHA  pulls  herself  together. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PAN  MURE  115 

JOSEPHA. 

Ho!  [Rising.]  Oh,  I  am  perfectly  well  aware 
what  you  are  all  driving  at.  [To  MRS.  HEBBLE- 
THWAITE.]  Fm  very  much  obliged  to  you,  Mrs. 
Hebblethwaite.  [Moving  about,  with  a  great  dis- 
play of  indignation.]  This  is  too  bad;  upon  my 
soul,  it  is  !  It'll  be  a  lesson  to  me  till  the  end  of  my 
life.  When  next  I  have  a  letter  from  a  girl-pal 
who's  got  into  a  bit  of  a  hobble — 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

Josey — Josey  dear 

JOSEPHA. 

Fm  dashed  if  I  go  for  counsel  to  a  lady  who  has 
an  amiable  and  good-natured  outside. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

Josey 

JOSEPHA. 

Oh !  To  have  the  whole  thing  twisted  round  and 
distorted!  It's  abominable !  That's  what  it  is;  it's 
abominable ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

Josey,  dear,  when  did  you  receive  your  friend's 
letter? 

JOSEPHA. 

[Standing  at  the  lack  of  the  arm-chair  by  the 
fauteuil- stool.]  I've  told  Mrs.  Hebblethwaite.  [To 
MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE.]  Mrs.  Hebblethwaite, 
didn't  I  tell  you  plainly  and  straightforwardly? 


n6  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
By  the  one  o'clock  post. 

JOSEPHA. 

By  the  second  post. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
To-day? 

JOSEPHA. 
[Gulping.]     T-t-to-day. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Under  her  breath.]     Ah!     [To  MRS.  PANMURE 
and  DULCIE,  in  a  whisper.]     Gulps! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Where  is  the  letter? 

JOSEPHA. 
[Blankly.]     Where  is  it? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Will  you  show  it  to  us  ? 

JOSEPHA. 

S-show  my  friend's  confidential  letter ! 
MRS.  PANMURE. 

Tinder  a  strict  pledge  of  secrecy.  [A  pause.] 
Will  you  show  it  to  me?  [A  pause.]  You  can 
trust  me,  Josey. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  117 

JOSEPHA. 

Oh,  I — I  know  I  can,  Lottie;  but  I — [Gulping.} 
I've  destro}red  it. 

[MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE  nudges  MRS.  PAN- 
MURE  and  signals  to  DULCIE. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[To  JOSEPHA.]     Destroyed  it? 

JOSEPHA. 

Torn  it  up.    You  don't  keep  a  letter  of  that  sort 
by  you. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[Solemnly.]     Joseplm. 

JOSEPHA. 

Yes? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
You  have  liad  no  letter  to-day. 

JOSEPHA. 
In-indeed? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
No;  according  to  Brabner. 
JOSEPHA. 
Brabner !    Brabner ! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Neither  to-day  nor  yesterday. 

JOSEPHA. 
Ho !      Clever    old    Brabner !      So    he   has    been 


n8  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

brought  into  it,  has  he?     [Facing  MRS.  PANMURE.] 
I  say,  Lottie,  this  isn't  exactly  playing  the  game. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
The  game  ? 

JOSEPHA. 

To  turn  on  a  servant  to  help  hound-down  the 
poor  governess ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Josey ! 

JOSEPHA. 

Only  he  forgets  one  thing,  the  ancient,  faithful 
domestic !  He  forgets  that  I  may  have  met  Shep- 
perd,  the  postman,  in  the  drive,  and -taken  my  letter 
from  him. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Gladly,  glancing  at  the  others.]     Ah,  yes! 

JOSEPHA. 
Ha,  ha,  ha! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

It  can  easily  be  ascertained  whether  that  was  so 
or  not. 

DULCIE. 
By  referring  to  Shepperd. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
To-morrow. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Oh,  but  surely  we  can  accept  Josepha's  word 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  119 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[To  MRS.  PANMURE.]     I  should  like  to  put  a 
question  to  Miss  Quarendon,  Lottie. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[To  JOSEPH  A.]     Josey ? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[To  JOSEPHA.]     Did  you  come  downstairs  again 
this  afternoon,  Miss  Quarendon ? 

DULCIE. 
After  tea. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
After  we  had  all  gone  to  our  rooms ? 

DULCIE. 
Leaving  the  men  here  together. 

MRS.  PAXMURE. 
[To  JOSEPHA.]     Josepha? 

JOSEPHA. 
[Boldly.]     No. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
No? 

JOSEPHA. 
[Gulping.]     No,  I  did  not. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[Faintly.]     Oh,  dear! 


120  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[.To  JOSEPHA.]  I, grieve  to  have  to  inform  you, 
Miss  Quarendon,  that  this  doesn't  tally  with  certain 
facts  which  have  come  to  our  knowledge. 

DULCIE. 

[To  JOSEPHA.]  You  were  seen  downstairs  after 
tea. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Holding  her  heart.]  By  my — by  Mr.  Hebble- 
thwaite. 

JOSEPHA. 

If — if  Mr.  Hebblethwaite  declares  that  he  saw 
me,  he — [gulping]  he  is  labouring  under  a  delusion. 

[MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE  again  makes  signs  to 
MRS.  PANMURE  and  DULCIE,  agitatedly. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[To  JOSEPHA.]  I  have  found  a  book  of  yours, 
Josepha — a  novel — in  the  morning-room.  It  wasn't 
there  before  we  all  moved  upstairs. 

JOSEPHA. 

S-somebody  must  have  left  it  there,  Lottie. 
DULCIE. 

Ha! 

JOSEPHA. 

Ah,  yes;  it  must  be  the  book  I  lent  yesterday. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Lent? 


PRESERVING  MR.  PAN  MURE  121 

I 

DULCIE. 

To  whom? 

MRS.  PANMUBE. 
To  whom,  Josey? 

JOSEPHA. 

[Wildly.]     I — I  decline  to  answer. 
MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Ah! 

JOSEPHA. 

I  won't — I  won't  be  treated  any  longer  as  if  I 
were  a  dishonest  kitchen-maid.  Lottie ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

Josepha,  darling  Myrtle  has  given  my  aunt  an 
account  of  what  she  heard  and  witnessed  when  she 
went  to  your  bedroom  this  evening. 

JOSEPHA. 
M-Myrtle ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
My  innocent  child. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[To  JOSEPHA.]  Bathing  your  face  and  rubbing 
it  as  though  you  would  remove  the  skin! 

JOSEPHA. 

What !  Can't  I  wash  my  face  in  this  house  with- 
out its  being  used  against  me! 


again ! 


122  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
And  crying  out,  "  I  shall  never  get  my  lips  nice 

JOSEPHA. 
[Under  her  breath.]     Oh! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
"  I  shall  never  get  my  lips  nice  again ;  never ! " 

[There  is  a  pause,  during  which  JOSEPHA  is 
quite  still,  and  then  MRS.  PANMURE 
rises  and  goes  to  her. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

Josepha,  look  me  in  the  eyes.     How  do  you  ex- 
plain that? 

JOSEPHA. 
[In  a  low  voice.}     I — I  can't  explain  it,  Lottie. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
You — you  have  been  lying  to  us  ? 

[JOSEPHA  slowly  draws  the  back  of  her  hand 
across  her  mouth. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE  and  DULCIE. 
[Rising.]     Ah! 

[HEBBLETHWAITE  enters  at  the  door  in  the 
centre  followed  by  LORING  and,  after  a 
while,  by  PANMURE.  JOSEPHA  moves  to 
the  fireplace  and  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE 
comes  to  DULCIE> 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  123 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[To  MRS.  PANMURE.]  Lottie,  my  dear,  Mr. 
Stulkeley  begs  you  to  excuse  him  for  half -an-hour ; 
so  does  Mr.  Woodhouse.  They've  shut  themselves 
up  in  the  library. 

LORING. 

Beastly  fag,  politics !  Just  fancy  Stulkeley 
grindin'  away  at  his  speech  for  to-morrow  on  top  of 
such  a  rippin'  dinner ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[To  HEBBLETHWAITE.]     Uncle 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Eh? 

LORING. 

Best  saddle  o'  mutton  Pve  ever  tasted. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[To  LORING.]     Mr.  Loring— 

LORING. 

Your  cook  does  jug  a  hare  too,  Mrs.  Panmure. 
Er — pardon  ? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Will  you  go  into  the  next  room  for  a  few  minutes  ? 

HEBBLETH  WAITE. 
[Surprised.]     Next  room? 
LORING. 
room? 


124  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

You  will  find  some  views  of  Switzerland  there,  in 
an  album. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Oh — by  all  means. 

,  LORING. 

[Not  stirring.]     Pleasure. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Gently  pushing  LORING  towards  the  door  on  the 
left.]  Come  along.  [At  the  door,  to  MRS.  PAN- 
MURE,  disturbed.]  I — I  hope 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Joining  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE  and  DULCIE.] 
Don't  ask  me  now,  uncle.  [HEBBLETHWAITE  and 
LORING  ivithdraw.  As  they  disappear,  PANMURE 
advances  with  a  startled  look.  Unseen  by  the 
ladies,  JOSEPHA  faces  him  quickly  and,  putting  her 
finger  to  her  lips,  makes  him  a  reassuring  sign.  At 
the  sound  of  the  closing  of  the  door  on  the  left, 
MRS.  PANMURE  turns  to  PANMURE.]  St.  John 

Wha-wha-what- 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Steadily.]  St.  John  dear,  something  very  pain- 
ful has  taken  place.  [PANMURE  stares  at  her 
vacantly.]  Horribly  painful. 

PANMUBE. 

P-painf  ul  ? 


PRESERVING  MR.  PAN  MURE  125 

MES.  PAN  MURE. 

I  don't  say  that  the  smallest  blame  attaches  itself 
to  Miss  Quarendon — to  Josepha— 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Except  for  her  prevarication. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

Even  that  is  understandable  in  the  circumstances. 
But  the  fact  remains  that  she  has  been  kissed. 

DULCIE. 

By  a  man. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Outrageously. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Here,  this  afternoon. 

PANMURE. 
[Inarticulately.]      K-k-kissby  Vman  ? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
We've  got  to  know  of  it  by  the  merest  accident. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Hurriedly.]  Yes,  I  should  like  Mr.  Panmure  to 
hear  how  it's  all  come  out.  [Addressing  PANMURE.] 
I'm  not  a  sneak.  No,  I'm  not  a  sneak.  I  never 
meant  to  cause  this  trouble.  But — idiot  that  I  am ! 
— I  went  to  Mrs.  Hebblethwaite  and  laid  the  case 


126  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

before  her,  pretending  I  was  seeking  advice  on  behalf 
of  a  girl-friend. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Sarcastically.]     MissMilly! 
JOSEPHA. 

Ha,  ha!  Oh,  I  did  make  a  hash  of  it,  Mr. 
Panmure.  Mrs.  Hebblethwaite  tumbled  to  the  truth 
almost  at  once.  And  then  Myrtle  gave  away  some- 
thing I'd  blurted  out  to  her  in  my  bedroom;  and 
after  dinner  Lottie  and  Mrs.  Hebblethwaite  and 
Miss  Anstice  bowled  me  over  completely.  Oh,  I 
could  knock  my  head  against  the  wall  for  my 
stupidity!  [To  the  ladies,  defiantly.]  After  all, 
what  is  a  kiss ! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Oh! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Josey ! 

DULOIE. 

[To  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE.]     Did  you  ever ! 

JOSEPHA. 

A  kiss !  Pah !  I've  been  kicking  up  a  tremen- 
dous fuss  about  nothing.  I  was  flustered  at  the  mo- 
ment; but  it  was  simply  a  bit  of  fun. 

MRS.     PANMURE,     MRS.     HEBBLETHWAITE,     and 

DULCIE. 
Fun! 

JOSEPHA. 

On  the  part  of — the — the  other  person.  And 
look  here !  I  recognise  that  Pm  in  disgrace,  though 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  127 

Lottie's  kind  enough  to  let  me  down  lightly.  So  be 
it !  I  leave  The  Clewers  to-morrow — early  to- 
morrow. I'd  be  off  to-night  if  it  wasn't  still  snow- 
ing. And  there's  an  end  of  the  business.  [Going  to 
MRS.  PANMURE.]  Good-bye,  Lottie.  [Chokingly.] 
S-s-sorry.  I  sha'n't  try  to  see  you  in  the  morning — 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[Sternly.]     Josepha! 

JOSEPHA. 
Y-yes  ? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
I  am  shocked  at  you. 

JOSEPHA. 
S-s-shocked  ? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

Such  levity!  Do  you  imagine  the  matter  can  be 
passed  over  in  this  manner?  [JOSEPHA  sinks  down 
on  to  the  fauteuil-stool.  MRS.  PANMURE  goes  to 
PANMURE,  who  has  retreated  to  the  back  and  is 
standing  there  with  a  relaxed  body  and  an  expres- 
sionless face.]  St.  John 

PANMURE. 

[Straightening  himself  and  speaking  in  a  thick 
voice.]  Hallo! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Touching  his  sleeve,  trustingly.]  You — you  are 
master  of  this  house. 

PANMURE. 
B-b-b'George,  yes ! 


128  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

The  affair  is  in  your  hands.    I  cannot — I  will  not 
— go  to  my  bed  to-night  till  you  have  ascertained 
who  it  is  who  has  committed  this  gross  impropriety. 
[JOSEPHA  suddenly  sits  upright  with  a  deter- 
mined air. 

DULCIE. 
I  should  think  not,  indeed ! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Bed! 

DULCIE. 
Bed! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[Motioning   PANMURE   towards  JOSEPHA.]      St. 

John 

[There  is  a  pause  and  then  PANMURE  ap- 
proaches JOSEPHA  with  painful  delibera- 
tion. 

PANMURE. 
M-m-miss  Quarendon. 

JOSEPHA. 

Well? 

PANMURE. 

You — you — you    hear    what    Lottie — what    Mrs. 
Panmure  says  ? 

JOSEPHA. 
I'm  not  $eaf. 

PANMURE. 
V-v-very  good.     V-v-very  good.     Now,  attend  to 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  129 

me.     [Loosening  his  shirt-collar.]     Attend  to  me. 
Who — who — who  is  the  feller? 

JOSEPHA. 

[Raising  her  head  and  looking  at  him  fixedly.] 
Nothing  on  earth  would  induce  me  to  split  on  him. 

PANMURE. 
H-h-hey? 

JOSEPHA. 
Nothing  in  the  wide  world. 

PANMURE. 

[Gaining  courage.]  M-m-miss  Quarendon,  d-d- 
d-do  you  d-d-dare  to — to  sit  there  and — and — and 
treat  me  with  defiance  ? 

JOSEPHA. 
Absolute  defiance. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Oh,  St.  John ! 

PANMURE. 

[Blusteringly.]  I — I — I  demand — I  demand  the 
feller's  name.  [Hitting  the  palm  of  his  hand  with 
his  fist.]  I  demand  it. 

[MRS.   HEBBLETHWAITE  and  DULCIE  draw 
.   nearer.    JOSEPHA  glances  at  them. 

JOSEPHA. 

If  you  stand  over  me  till  daybreak,  every  one  of 
you,   you   won't   succeed  in  getting  anything  out , 
of  me. 


130  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Going  to  MRS.  PANMURE.]     Really,  Lottie! 

DULCIE. 

[Walking  away  to  the  lack.}     Charming! 
MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Advancing  and  coming  between  JOSEPHA  and, 
PANMURE.]     Josepha — Josepha — 

PANMURE. 

[Wiping  his  brow.]     Defied,  b'George!     Defied, 
under  my  own  roof ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

Josepha,  you  don't  seem  to  see  the  consequences  of 
the  attitude  }^ou  are  taking  up. 

JOSEPHA. 
[Doggedly.]     Consequences? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

By  shielding  the  guilty,  you  are  casting  suspicion 
upon  the  innocent. 

PANMURE. 

[Flourishing     his     handkerchief.]        Quite     so. 
Cas'piciononth'innocent. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

There   are   four   men   in   this  house — five,    if   I 
include  my  husband 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  131 

JOSEPH  A. 

[Quickly.]  Mr.  Panmure !  [Shrugging  her 
shoulders.]  Ho !  Obviously  it  wasn't  Mr.  Pan- 
mure.  [Rising.]  There!  I  have  told  you  some- 
thing. [Deliberately.]  It  wasn't — Mr.  Panmure. 
[MRS.  PANMURE  turns  to  PANMURE  and,  with  closed 
eyes,  prints  a  remorseful  kiss  upon  his  cheek;  where- 
upon PANMURE,  inflating  his  chest,  moves  to  the 
round  table  and  picks  up  a  newspaper.]  And  now 
I'll  relieve  you  of  my  company. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Coming  forward,  with  DULCIE,  on  the  left.] 
Certainly  not ! 

JOSEPHA. 

[To  MRS.  PANMURE.]  You  won't  expect  me  at 
prayers  to-night,  will  you? 

DULCIE. 

Lottie ! 

JOSEPHA. 

[Clinging  to  MRS.  PANMURE.]  Oh,  don't  let 
them  chivey  me  any  more ;  don't. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

Josepha  dear,  nobody  wants  to  chivey  you,  as  you 
rather  inelegantly  term  it.  [Releasing  herself.] 
But  you  must  perceive  that  the  matter  cannot  rest 
here. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[To  JOSEPHA.]  It's  not  enough,  Miss 
Quarendon,  that  you  should  exonerate  only  Mr.  Pan- 
mure. 


i32  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

PANMURE. 

[Opening    the    newspaper    impressively.}       No, 
Why  am  /  specially  favoured,  s'like  to  know  ? 

DULCIE. 

[To  JOSEPH  A.]     As  Lottie  says,  you've  got  to 
clear  the  innocent. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

It's  a  mere  form,  perhaps — but — but  there  is  Mr. 
Hebblethwaite,  for  instance 

PANMURE. 

Yes,  there's  dear  ol'  Alfred. 
DULCIE. 
And  Mr.  Loring. 

PANMURE. 

Hughie  Loring.    Remember  him  in  Eton  jackets, 
b' George ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Gently  shaking  JOSEPHA,  who  is  staring  before 
her.]     Josepha. 

JOSEPH  A. 

[Dazed.]    Yes,  but — if  I  clear  first  one — and  then 
another — you —  you 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

We— we ? 

JOSEPHA. 
You — you'd  arrive  at  the  guilty  party. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  133 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Precisely. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Now,  come! 

JOSEPHA. 

[Shaking  her  head.]     No — no. 
MRS.  PANMURE. 
Joseph a ! 

JOSEPHA. 
I— I— I  can't. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Can't? 

JOSEPHA. 
I  can't. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Can't  clear  Mr.  Hebblethwaite ! 

DULCIE. 
Nor  Mr.  Loring! 

JOSEPHA. 

[Unsteadily.]     I — Pm  going  to  my  room. 
MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE  and  DULCIE. 

Oh ! 

JOSEPHA. 

I — I'm  going  to  pack.  [She  turns,  to  find 
DULCIE  standing  before  the  door  in  the  centre  and 
MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE  barring  her  way  to  the  door 
on  the  left.  She  stamps  her  foot  fiercely.]  Get 
away!  Get  away!  [To  DULCIE.]  Get  away  from 


134  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

that  door.  [  DULCIE,  alarmed,  retreats  to  the  right 
and  JOSEPHA,  uttering  indignant  cries,  opens  the 
centre  door.}  Ah!  Ah! 

[She  goes  out  and  flies  up  the  stairs. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Coming  forward,  much  discomposed.]  Oh,  good 
gracious ! 

DULCIE. 

[Also  coming  forward,  laughing  uncomfortably.] 
Ha,  ha,  ha ! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Oh,  what  a  violent  young  woman ! 

DULCIE. 

Ha,  ha !  One  doesn't  want  one's  eyes  scratched 
out. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
A  perfect  fury ! 

DULCIE. 
Ill-conditioned  little  savage ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[To  PANMURE,  calmly.]     St.  John 

PANMURE. 
H-hallo ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Going  to  the  fireplace.]  Josepha  Quarenclon's 
anxiety  to  screen  this  libertine  makes  me  more  deter- 
mined than  ever. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  135 

PANMURE. 

[Throwing  his  newspaper  aside  with  an  air  of 
resolve.]  More'n'ever. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
The  affair  shall  be  fathomed. 

PANMURE. 
Fathomed,  b'George  !• 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Turning  to  him.]  I  repeat,  the  investigation  is 
in  your  hands.  [Sitting  majestically,  with  folded 
arms,  upon  the  settee  by  the  fireplace.]  Auntie — 
Dulcie — we  will  wait  here  while  St.  John  examines 
uncle  Alfred  and  Mr.  Loring  in  the  morning-room. 

DULCIE. 
[Moving  to  the  right.]     Yes. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Following  DULCIE.]    That's  the  next  step. 

DULCIE. 
That's  the  next  step. 

[  DULCIE  and  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE  seat 
themselves  at  the  round  table  as  PAN- 
MURE  slowly  makes  for  the  door  on  the 
left. 

PANMURE. 

[Halting  in  the  middle  of  the  room — with  a  dry 
mouth.]  L-Lottie. 


136  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Yes,  dear? 

PANMURE. 

S-s-suppose  Alfred  and  Hughie — both  of  'em — 
suppose  they  deny  it? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

Then  you  will  have  another  distressing  task  to 
perform,  St.  John. 

PANMURE. 
Mother? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
In  the  library. 

PANMURE. 
Library  ? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Looking  at  him  significantly.]  Mr.  Stulkeley — 
Mr.  Woodhouse — ! 

PANMURE. 

[His  jaw  falling.]  Oh — ah — yes;  there's  Stulk- 
eley and  Woodhouse,  ain't  there?  [Lingering, 
dully.]  Stulkeley — and  Woodhouse. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Go,   St.  John.     [Re  makes  a  movement.]      St. 

John 

PANMURE. 
H-hey? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

Be  firm.  [He  nods.]  ^STo  matter  what  it  costs 
you,  be  firm. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  137 

PANMURE. 

E-rely  on  me,  Lottie.  [To  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE 
and  DULCIE,  swelling  himself  out  again.}  Girls, 
rely  on  me. 

[With  an  important  cough,  he  adjusts  his 
necktie,  pulls  down  his  waistcoat,  and 
marches  to  the  door  of  the  morning- 
room.  There  he  pauses,  his  hand  on  the 
door  handle,  and  draws  a  deep  breath. 
Then  he  disappears,  leaving  the  three 
ladies  sitting  grimly  and  fixedly. 


END  OF  THE  SECOND  ACT. 


THE  THIED  ACT 

The  scene  i$  a  library.  In  the  centre  of  the  watt  at 
the  back  is  a  fireplace  with  a  fender-stool  before 
it.  A  bright  fire  of  wood  is  burning  in  a  dog- 
gratc.  In  the  right-hand  wall,  a  double-door 
opens  into  the  room  from  a  passage;  and  in  the 
wall  on  the  left,  directly  opposite  the  double- 
door,  there  is  a  bay-window.  'Curtains  of  heavy 
material  are  drawn  across  the  opening  to  the 
window-recess. 

Boole-shelves  laden  with  books  almost  en- 
tirely conceal  the  rest  of  the  walls;  frut  at  the 
back,  between  the  fireplace  and  the  right-hand 
wall,  there  is  a  single  door,  light  in  substance, 
furnished  ivith  dummy  books  so  as  to  continue 
the  lines  of  the  shelves.  This  door  admits  to  a 
small  cabinet  in  which  are  a  wash-stand,  a  ewer 
of  water,  towels,  etc.,  also  a  dressing -table  with 
a  mirror  above  it.  On  the  table  is  a  set  of  hair- 
brushes, under  the  table  a  pair  of  wool-ivork 
slippers,  and  hanging  from  a  peg  is  a  braided 
sm  o  king-jacke  t. 

A  little  smoking-table  and  a  capacious  arm- 
chair stand  on  either  side  of  the  fireplace.  In 
the  left-hand  corner  of  the  room  there  is  a 
settee,  in  the  right-hand  corner  a  large  circular 
table  with  newspapers  and  magazines  upon  it. 
i39 


i4o  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

Facing  the  window  are  a  writing-table  and 
chair,  and  on  the  other  side  of  the  room  a  small 
oblong  table  and  an  arm-chair.  '  A  writing-case 
containing  papers  is  on  the  oblong  table. 

The   room   is   lighted   by   shaded   lights  in 
sconces  and  by  a  lamp  on  the  writing-table. 
[WOODHOUSE,  pen  in  hand,  is  seated  at  the 
writing-table.     Some  sheets  of  writing- 
paper,   covered   with   notes,   are   before 
him.     STULKELEY  is  standing  with  his 
back  to  the  fire,  dictating. 

STULKELEY. 

[Stroking  his  brow.]     Let  me  see;  let  me  see. 
What  shall  I  touch  upon  next? 

WOODIIOUSE. 
[  Yawning.  ]     Oh-h-h-h  !    Pig-iron  ? 

STULKELEY. 

No,  no;  Hebblethwaite  is  dealing  with  pig-iron. 
He's  splendid  on  pig-iron ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

I  really  shouldn't  have  given  him  pig-iron,  if  I'd 
been  you,  Reggie.    We're  not  at  all  bad  on  pig-iron. 

STULKELEY. 

[Ignoring    WOODHOUSE'S    comment.]      Ah,    yes, 
yes ;  the  duties  already  existing  on  imported  food ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

Not  again!     We  fed  ?em  with  that,  to-day  at 
Shobdon. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PAN  MURE  141 

STULKELEY. 

My  dear  fellow,  do  remember  that  a  harp  has  only 
a  certain  number  of  strings.  [Dictating.]  '  Tax- 
ation of  food  and  other  necessaries  of  life  no  new 
thing."  [Softly,  as  WOODHOUSE  writes.}  No  new 
thing — no  new  thing 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Writing.}     " no  new  thing." 

STULKELEY. 

[To  WOODHOUSE.]  Enumerate  the  various  arti- 
cles of  taxed  food. 

WOODTIOUSE. 
[Writing,  wearily.}     "  Sugar — tea — 

STULKELEY. 

[Beginning  to  share  WOODIIOUSE'S  fatigue.\ 
"  Figs — plums — prunes — 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Writing.]     "  Figs — plums — prunes — 

STULKELEY. 
"  Eaisins— cocoa —  [Breaking  off.]     Cocoa  ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Writing.]  "  Eaisins — cocoa — coffee — currants — 
chicory." 

STULKELEY. 

Isn't  there  something  I  particularly  wished  to  say 
about  cocoa? 


i42  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

WOODHOUSE. 

I'm  blessed  if  I  know.  I'm  getting  stale  on  it  all, 
frankly. 

STULKELEY. 

[Searching  among  the  contents  of  the  writing- 
case  on  the  oblong  table.]  Cocoa.  Where  is  cocoa? 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Leaning  back  in  his  chair  and  staring  at  the  ceil- 
ing.] Damn  cocoa! 

STULKELEY. 

[Finding  a  scrap  of  paper.}  Here  it  is!  "Co- 
coa." I  was  sure  I  had  a  memorandum  on  the  sub- 
ject. [Reading.]  "Instance  of  scientific  protec- 
tion practised  by  our  opponents/'  [Tossing  the 
memorandum  back  into  the  writing-case  and  dic- 
tating.} "Cocoa." 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Yawning  again.}  Oh-h-h-h!  [Writing.]  "Co- 
coa." 

STULKELEY. 

"Instance    of    s-s-scientific —  [Yawning.] 

Oh-h-h-h !     Your  yawning  is  contagious,,  my  dear 
Talbot. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Yawning.]  S-s-sorry.  [Writing.]  " sci- 
entific protection  practised  by  our  opponents." 

STULKELEY. 

[Yawning.]  "  C-c-case  of  cocoa — oh-h-h! — case 
of  cocoa  one  of  especial  interest." 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  143 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Yawning  as  he  writes.]      "  C-a-case  of  c-c-co- 

coa " 

STULKELEY. 

I  think  if  I  plunged  my  face  in  a  little  cold 
water — 

WOODHOUSE. 

Excellent  idea.  [Rising  with  alacrity.}  I'll 
smoke  another  cigarette  while  you're  doing  it. 

STULKELEY. 

[Taking  off  his  coat.]  I  suspect  that  we  are  both, 
more  or  less,  in  the  throes  of  indigestion. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Producing  his  cigarette  case.]  A  confoundedly 
stodgy  dinner,  lieggie ! 

STULKELEY. 

[Laying  his  coat  upon  the  arm-chair  by  the  oblong 
table.]  Very. 

WOODHOUSE. 

Well-intentioned  people — the  Panmures 

STULKELEY. 

[Turning  up  his  shirt-cuffs.]  A  kindly  host  and 
hostess. 

WOODIIOUSE. 

[Lighting  a  cigarette.]  But,  if  the  criticism  may 
be  allowed,  the  entire  repast  was  nauseous  in  the  ex- 
treme. 

STULKELEY. 

[Entering  the  washing -cabinet  and  switching  on 


144  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

the  light.]     It  failed  to  reach  the  level  of  last  night, 
undoubtedly. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Standing  before  the  fire,  smoking.]  Last  night 
the  cook,  whom  I  picture  as  an  elderly  female  of 
opulent  physical  proportions — last  night  the  cook 
evidently  shot  her  bolt. 

STULKELEY. 

[Pouring  water  into  the  basin.]  Not  only  was 
the  dinner  unsatisfactory  in  a  material  sense.,  my 
dear  Talbot,  but  a  curious  air  of  oppression  seemed 
to  hang  over  the  table. 

WOODHOUSE. 

Cause  and  effect. 

STULKELEY. 

[Dousing  his  face.]     Perhaps. 
WOODHOUSE. 

The  soup  was  described  as  mock-turtle.  I  don't 
dispute  the  fidelity  of  the  imitation,  but  the  particu- 
lar turtle  that  was  mocked  must  have  lived  on  a  diet 
consisting  mainly  of  glue.  Then  the  cod-fish ; 
woolly  as  a  blanket !  And  a  more  underdone  frag- 
ment of  meat  than  my  slice  of  mutton  I  have  never 
seen  off  a  butcher's  board. 

STULKELEY. 

[Wiping  his  face  upon  a  towel.]  Mrs.  Panmure 
was  so  absent-minded  that  I  could  scarcely  wring  a 
syllable  from  her. 

WOODHOUSE. 
No  wonder,  poor  dear  lady ! 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  145 

STULKELEY. 

Miss  Anstice,  too !  Last  night,  quite  entertain- 
ing. 

WOODHOUSE. 

7  was  afflicted,  on  one  side  of  me,  with  the  com- 
panionship of  Miss  Panmure.  I  really  shall  com- 
municate with  the  secretary  of  the  Zoological  So- 
ciety concerning  that  young  person.  Nobody  but 
he  can  classify  her  with  accuracy. 

STULKELEY. 

[Appearing  in  the  doorway  of  the  cabinet  with  a 
hair-Brush.]  Even  my  fascinating  little  friend  Miss 
Quarendon  had  lost  some  of  her  usual  vivacity. 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Affecting  indifference.]     Had  she? 

STULKELEY. 
Didn't  you  notice  it  ?    She  was  on  your  other  side. 

WOODHOUSE. 
Er — I  fancy  I  did. 

STULKELEY. 

[Brushing  his  hair.]  Still,  it's  a  pleasure  to  con- 
template Miss  Quarendon,  whether  she  is  talking  or 
is  silent. 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Shortly.]     Charming  girl;  charming. 


146  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

STULKELEY. 

[Lost  in  meditation.]  Most  attractive;  m-o-s-t 
attractive.  [WOODHOUSE  frowns  in  the  direction  of 
STULKELEY,  flings  his  cigarette  into  the  fire,  and 
walks  about  impatiently.  STULKELEY  rouses  him- 
self and  completes  the  brushing  of  his  hair  before 
the  mirror.]  Ha!  What  an  extraordinary  coinci- 
dence ! 

WOODHOUSE. 
[  Sourly.  ]  Coincidence  ? 

STULKELEY. 
My  acquaintance  with  her  delightful  old  father. 

WOODHOUSE. 

My  dear  chap,  you  said  yesterday  that  you'd  only 
a  hazy  recollection  of  old  Quarendon. 

STULKELEY. 
I — er — I've  been  refreshing  my  memory. 

WOODHOUSE. 

Clearly.  To-day,  you  and  he  appear  to  have  been 
cronies. 

STULKELEY. 

[Switching  off  the  light  in  the  cabinet  and  emerg- 
ing.] You  will  always  exaggerate,  Talbot.  [Shut- 
ting the  door.]  A  man  may  enjoy  a  tolerably  close 
friendship  with  another  without  being  exactly  a 
"  orony."  [Turning  down  his  shirt-cuffs,  coldly.] 
However,  we  won't  waste  time  in  discussing  the  pre- 
cise terms  of  my  intimacy  with  Colonel  Quarendon. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  147 

[Resuming  his  coat.]  Shall  we  get  to  work  again? 
[WOODHOUSE,  with  an  ill  grace,  returns  to  his  seat 
at  the  writing-table.]  Where  were  we? 

WOODIIOUSE. 
Oh,  cocoa. 

STULKELEY. 

[Taking  up  his  former  position  at  the  fireplace.] 
Yes,  yes;  cocoa. 

WOODIIOUSE. 

[Reading  his  notes.]  "  Case  of  cocoa — "  Case  of 
cocoa — what  ? 

STULKELEY. 

Case  of  cocoa  one  of  especial  interest,  I  think  I 
was  going  to  observe.  [A  faint  "but  sharp  knocking 
is  heard.  STULKELEY  looks  towards  the  door  on  the 
right.]  Come  in ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Writing.]  " — one  of  especial  interest/' 
STULKELEY. 

[Dictating.]  "  Now — ah — there  is — h'm — there 
is  raw  cocoa — and — er — there  is  manufactured  co- 
coa." [The  knocking  is  repeated.]  Where  is  that 
knocking?  [ WOODIIOUSE  sits  up  and  listens.  Again 
the  knocking  is  heard.]  Is  it  at  the  window,  Talbot? 
[ WOODHOUSE  rises  and  passes  through  the  curtains 
hanging  across  the  window-recess.  STULKELEY  mur- 
murs to  himself.]  There  is  raw  cocoa — and  there 
is — er — manufactured  cocoa. 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Out  of  sight.]       Lor?  bless  my  soul! 


148  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

JOSEPHA'S  VOICE. 

Mr.  Woodhouse 

WOODHOUSE. 
My  dear  Miss  Quarendon ! 

JOSEPHA'S  VOICE. 

Is  Mr.  Stulkeley ?    ' 

WOODHOUSE. 
Quick !    Get  in  ! 

[WOODHOUSE  draws  one  of  the  curtains  aside 
and  JOSEPHA  appears,  dressed  as  in  the 
preceding  act,  with  flushed  cheeks  and  a 
feverish  sparMe  in  her  eyes.  She  has  a 
filmy  scarf  round  her  shoulders  and 
there  are  glistening  particles  of  snow 
upon  the  scarf  and  in  her  hair. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Breathlessly.]      Oh,   dear  me!      [Dropping  her 
skirt.]    Thank  you. 

STULKELEY. 
[Advancing  to  her.]     Miss  Quarendon! 

JOSEPHA. 

I'm  afraid  I  was  rather  impatient,  but  it's  such 
a  fearful  night. 

STULKELEY. 
You've  come  through  the  garden ! 

JOSEPHA. 
Yes.      [Shaking  the  snow  from  her  hands  and 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  149 

arms  as  WOODHOUSE^  after  having  fastened  the  win- 
dow, hurries  from  behind  the  curtain.]  I  hope 
I'm  not  bothering  you. 

STULKELEY. 
Not  in  the  least. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Helping  her  to  unwind  her  scarf.}     Permit  me. 

STULKELEY. 

[Getting  hold  of  one  end  of  the  scarf.]  I'll  shake 
it. 

[The  men  each  holding  an  end  of  the  scarf, 
pull  it  away  from  one  another. 

JOSEPHA. 

Oh,  don't  tear  my  lovely  scarf ! 

[WOODHOUSE  secures  the  scarf  and  proceed* 
to  shake  it  vigorously  in  the  left-hand 
corner  of  the  room. 
STULKELEY. 
[To  JOSEPHA.]     Are  your  shoes  wet? 

JOSEPHA. 

[Looking  down  at  her  toes.]  Xothing  to  speak 
of.  I  ran  like  mad  till  I  got  to  the  verandah. 
[STULKELEY  has  produced  his  handkerchief  and  is 
flicking  her  hair  with  it.]  Thank  you,  thank  you, 
so  much.  [WOODHOUSE  throws  the  scarf  upon  the 
settee  and  joins  in  the  operation.]  The  snow  must 
be  seven  or  eight  inches  deep  in  some  places.  It 
isn't  going  to  lie,  though.  There  are  signs  of  a 
drizzle  already.  [One  of  the  handkerchiefs  flicks 
her  eye.]  Oh ! 


I5o  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

STULKELEY. 
My  dear  Talbot ! 

WOODHOUSE. 
My  dear  Reggie! 

STULKELEY. 
[To  JOSEPHA.]  T  bpy  your  pardon. 

WOODHOUSE. 
[To  JOSEPHA.]  Which  of  us  did  it? 

JOSEPHA. 
[Blinking.]     All  righ't;  it  doesn't  matter. 

STULKELEY. 

[To  WOODHOUSE.]  Make  up  the  fire.  [To 
JOSEPHA.]  Come  to  the  fire. 

JOSEPHA. 

The  fire!  I'm  burning  as  it  is.  [Going  to  the 
chair  ~by  the  oblong  table  and  then  turning  to  ad- 
dress STULKELEY.]  T  dare  say  you  are  awfully  sur- 
prised at  my  intruding  myself  upon  you  in  this  way. 

STULKELEY. 
There  can  be  no  question  of  intruding. 

JOSEPHA. 

No,  but  blowing  in  at  the  window  as  if  I  were  a 
microbe ! 

STULKELEY. 
Well,  I— I  confess  I 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  151 

JOSEPHA. 

[Earnestly.]  I'll  tell  you.  I  don't  want  my  visit 
to  you  to  be  known.  It  mustn't  be  known.  So,  to 
avoid  being  seen  by  any  one,  I  crept  down  the  ser- 
vants' staircase  and  let  myself  out  at  the  trades- 
men's door  and  sprinted  through  the  grounds. 

STULKELEY. 

[Raising  his  eyebrows.}  Can  you  get  back  with- 
out being  discovered  ? 

JOSEPHA. 

[With  a  shrug  and  a  wan  smile.}  With  luck. 
All  life  is  luck,  it  seems  to  me.  [Indicating  Ike 
door  on  the  right.]  Do  you  mind  turning  the  key, 
in  case  we  should  be  interrupted? 

[WOODHOUSE,  ivlio  has  replenished  the  fire, 
hastens  to  the  door  and  there  pauses. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[To    STULKELEY,    reluctantly.]      Er — shall    I — 

er ? 

JOSEPHA. 

[To  WOODHOUSE.]  Oh,  no,  please  don't;  there's 
no  necessity  for  that.  In  fact,  I — I  think  I  should 
prefer  you  remaining.  [WooDiiousE  locks  the 
door.]  Thank  you,  ever  so  much.  [To  both  the 
men.}  Of  course,  this  is  in  deadly  confidence? 

STULKELEY.   ' 
[Moving  away  to  the  writing-table.}      My  dear 

child *! 

WOODHOUSE. 
My  dear  young  lady ! 


152  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

STULKELEY. 

[To  JOSEPHA.]  Pray — pray  sit  down.  [She  sits. 
WOODHOUSE  retires  to  the  fireplace.]  To  what  do  I 
owe  the — ah — the  gratification ? 

JOSEPHA. 

[Forcing  a  laugh.}  Ha,  ha  !  The  beginning  of  a 
job  is  always  the  hardest  part  of  it,  isn't  it?  [Ner- 
vously stroking  the  arm  of  her  chair.]  M-M-Mr. 
Stulkeley,  you — you  knew  my  father. 

STULKELLY. 
Er — ah — yes.     I  had  that  privilege. 

JOSEPHA. 

And,  judging  from  what  you  said  to  me  this  morn- 
ing, you  feel  a  certain  amount  of  interest  in  his 
daugher. 

STULKELEY. 

[Shunning  WOODHOUSE'S  eye,  which  is  upon 
him.]  A — er — a  very  considerable  interest, 

JOSEPHA. 

And  that  emboldens  me  to  approach  you  in  this 
unceremonious  fashion,  and  to — to  ask  a  trifling 
favour  of  you. 

STULKELEY. 
I  assure  you,  anything  that  lies  in  my  power 

JOSEPHA. 

[Meeting  his  gaze.]  I'm  leaving  The  Clewers  to- 
morrow. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  153 

STULKELEY. 
Leaving ! 

JOSEPHA. 
Early  in  the  morning. 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Ruefully.}     To-morrow  morning! 

JOSEPHA. 
[To  STULKELEY.]     Abrupt,  isn't  it? 

STULKELEY. 
It  does  strike  me  as  somewhat 

JOSEPHA. 

I've  been  upstairs,  in  my  room,  collecting  my 
vast  possessions;  [dropping  her  eyes]  and  suddenly, 
in  a  flash,  an  inspiration  came  to  me. 

STULKELEY. 
Inspiration  ? 

JOSEPHA. 

I — I'm  anxious  before  I  go  to  smooth  out  a  little 
difficulty  I've  got  into. 

STULKELEY. 
Difficulty? 

JOSEPHA. 

Well,  that  I've  got  other  people  into,  is  how  I 
ought  to  put  it,  I  suppose.  [Studying  the  carpet.] 

M-M-Mr.  Stulkeley [Pie  advances  a  step  or  two.] 

I — I've  been  kissed, 


154  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

STULKELEY. 
Kissed  ? 

JOSEPHA. 

[Nodding.]     This  afternoon,  by  one  of  the  men 
in  the  house. 

STULKELEY. 

Er — objectionably  ? 

JOSEPHA. 

[Nodding  again.]      H'm.     The  ladies  were  rest- 
ing and  I  was  downstairs  alone. 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Coming  forward.]     Good  gracious  ! 

JOSEPHA. 

It  was  so  unexpected.     Before  I  could  wriggle 
away — [drawing  her  hand  across  her  lips]  puh! 

WOODHOUSE. 
Blackguard ! 

STULKELEY. 
Who  is  the  scoundrel? 

JOSEPHA. 

Unfortunately,  after  giving  him  my  solemn  word 
that  I  wouldn't  blab,  Fve  gone  and  let  it  out. 

STULKELEY. 

To- ? 

JOSEPHA. 
To  the  ladies.     You  see,  I  was  perplexed  as  to 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  155 

what  course  I  ought  to  follow,  and  I  invented  a 
cramraer  about  its  having-  happened  to  a  girl-friencl 
of  mine.  And  one  of  the  ladies,  whose  advice  I 
asked,  grasped  the  true  state  of  affairs;  and  then 
they  all  went  for  me,  and  I  was  compelled  to  own 
up. 

WOODHOUSE. 

Serves  the  brute  right ! 

STULKELEY. 

It  is  impossible  to  feel  the  smallest  sympathy 

JOSEPHA. 
[Quickly.]     Oh,  no;  you  don't  understand  me. 

STULKELEY. 

I  understand 

JOSEPHA. 

No,  ro ;  I  haven't  revealed  the  man's  name.  [Ris- 
ing and  going  to  STULKELEY]  That's  what  brings 
me  to  you.  [Smiling  into  his  face  winningly.] 
T-t-this  is  where  the  inspiration  conies  in. 

STULKELEY. 
Ah,  yes;  the — the  inspiration. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Bracing  herself  for  an  effort.]  M-M-Mr. 
Stulkeley,  it  has  occurred  to  me  that  perhaps  you — 
perhaps  you'd  be  sweet  enough  to — to  oblige  me 

STULKELEY. 
Oblige  you  ? 


156  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURB 

JOSEPHA. 

B-b-by — by  taking  it  on  yourself. 

STULKELEY. 
Taking  it — on  myself  ! 

JOSEPHA. 
Allowing  me  to  tell  the  ladies  that  you  did  it. 

STULKELEY. 
[Horrified.]     My  dear  Miss  Quarendon! 

JOSEPHA. 
Oh,  but  wait !    You  don't  give  me  time  to  explain. 

STULKELEY. 
I  fear,  no  explanation 

JOSEPHA. 

Yes,  it  will.  When  I  found  what  a  miserable 
muddle  I'd  made  of  things,  I  declared  to  the  ladies 
that  the  whole  business  had  been  simply  a  bit  of  fun. 

STULKELEY. 
Fun? 

JOSEPHA. 

I  was  foolishly  indignant  at  the  moment,  I  told 
them,  but  it  had  been  nothing  but  a  harmless  frolic. 

STULKELEY. 

They  didn't  believe  you? 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  157 

.   JOSEPH  A. 

Xo,  because  they're  in  such  a  frightful  panic  over 
their  men-folk.  But  if  you  would  only  let  me  say 
that  you're  the  person— 

STULKELEY. 
[With  a  gesture.]     Oh ! 

JOSEPHA. 

An  old  friend  of  my  father's ! 

STULKELEY. 
A  friend  of  a  young  lady's  father  does  not — 

ah 

JOSEPHA. 

Yes,  he  doc*.  At  any  rate,  he  mifjlii.  [Turning 
to  WOODHOUSE.]  Mightn't  he,  Mr.  Woodhouse  ? 
[Appealingfy.]  Mr.  Woodhouse ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Judicially.]  Since  you  do  me  the  honour  of 
soliciting  my  opinion — 

JOSEPHA. 

WOODHOUSE. 
I  can  quite  conceive  that  a  man  of  my  cousin's 

STULKELEY. 
[Stiffly.]     My  dear  Talbot- 

JOSEPHA. 

[To  STULKELEY.]     Oh,  don't  stop  him! 


158  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

WOODHOUSE. 

[With  a  touch  of  malevolence.]  Considering,  too, 
the  remarkable  intimacy  which  apparently  existed 
between  him  and  your  late  father 

JOSEPHA. 

Yes? 

WOODHOUSE. 

I  repeat,  I  can  quite  conceive  that,  in  a  semi- 
parental  spirit 

JOSEPHA. 

That's  it!  That's  it!  [To  STULKELE*/.]  Par- 
ental ! 

STULKELEY. 

My  dear  Miss  Quarendon 

JOSEPHA. 
Ah,  oblige  me ! 

STULKELEY. 

The  parental  spirit — and  I  can  imagine  few 
forms  of  affection  more  beautiful — the  parental 
spirit  does  not,  I  submit,  incite  a  man  to  embrace  a 
young  lady,  playfully  or  otherwise,  in  such  a  man- 
ner as  to  cause  her  embarrassment  or  alarm.  [Bow- 
ing.] I  grieve  not  to  be  able  to  fall  in  with  your 
suggestion.  [Withdrawing  to  the  fireplace.]  For- 
give me. 

JOSEPHA. 

\Half  in  petulance,  half  in  distress.]  Oh!  oh! 
[Moving  to  the  writing-table.]  Oh,  how  disoblig- 
ing! 

STULKELEY. 

[Opening    his   arms.]      Besides,    why    on   earth 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  159 

should  the  actual  culprit  be  treated  with  so  much 
indulgence?  I  would  spare  him  no  suspense,  no 
agony  of  mind ;  not  a  scintilla.' 

JOSEPHA. 

[Sitting  at  the  writing-table  and,  with  her  el- 
bows upon  it,  digging  Tier  fingers  into  her  hair.] 
Oh,  dear  me  !  Oh,  dear  me ! 

'STULKELEY. 

Whether  he  is  to  be  exposed  or  not,  he  deserves  to 
be  made  as  uneasy  as  possible. 

JOSEPHA, 

Yes,  but  all  the  men  don't  deserve  to  be  made 
uneasy;  nor  do  the  women. 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Knitting  his  brows.}     Who  are  the  men? 

STULKELEY. 

[Reckoning.]     Mr.  Pnmnure 

JOSHPPIA. 

[Turning  in  her  chair  hastily.}  Ah,  no,  it  wasn't 
Mr.  Panmure. 

STULKELEY. 
Not  Mr.  Panmure. 

JOSEPHA. 
Xo;  that's  just  who  it  wasn't.     I've  cleared  him. 

STULKELEY. 
That  leaves  us  Mr. — Mr. 


160  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

WOODHOUSE. 

Loring. 

STULKELEY. 
[Shocked.}  Engaged  to  Miss  Anstice! 

WOODHOUSE. 
And  Hebblethwaite. 

STULKELEY. 
[Throwing  up  his  hands.]  Great  heavens! 

JOSEPH  A. 
[  To  STULKELEY  and  WOODHOUSE.]    And  you  two. 

STULKELEY. 

Eh  ? 

JOSEPHA. 

Mr.  Panmure  being  out  of  it,  it  lies  between  -the 
four  of  you. 

STULKELEY. 

[El anllij.}     The  four  of  us  ! 

WOODHOUSE. 
The  four  of  us ! 

STULKELEY. 
[To  JOSEPHA.]  My  dear  Miss  Quarendon! 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Going  to  STULKELEY.]  My  dear  Eeggie! 

STULKELEY. 
[To  WOODHOUSE.]  My  dear  fellow! 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  161 

WOODHOUSE. 

The  four  of  us ! 

STULKELEY. 

The  four  of  us ! 

[Going  to  JOSEPPIA.]  My  dear  young  lady,  what- 
ever pledge  may  have  been  extorted  from  you  by 
this — tli is — this  reptile,  surely  it  is  due  to  those  to 
whom  chivalry  is  not — ah — is  not  yet  a  dead  let- 
ter— 

JOSEPHA. 

[Shaking  her  head.]     No,  no;  I  can't. 

WOODHOUSE. 
You  can't — 

JOSEPHA. 
I  can't  give  up  the  guilty  party. 

WOODHOUSE. 
But  you  can  exculpate — 

JOSEPHA. 
No ;  I  won't  .supply  the  slightest  clue. 

WOODHOUSE. 
Oh,  but  really ! 

JOSEPHA. 
[Turning  from  him.]     Don't;  don't! 

WOODHOUSE. 
You  must  listen  to  reason;  you  really  must. 


162  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

[Magnanimously.]  I  am  thinking  more  of  my 
cousin  Reggie  than  of  myself;  I  am,,  positively. 

STULKELEY. 

[Walking  about  on  the  right,  perturbed.]  Non- 
sense ;  nonsense ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

A  man  of  his  standing — a  man  in  public  life! 
That  there  should  be  a  question  even  of  his  .being 
capable  of  such  a  hideous  breach  of  hospitality ! 

STULKELEY. 

Intolerable ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

Assuming  that  the  affair  remains  within  the  area 
of  conjecture,  these  ladies  are  bound  to  gossip. 

STULKELEY. 
Dreadful ! 

WOODHOUSE. 
And  once  a  scandal  of  this  sort  gets  wind 

JOSEPH  A. 
[Her  face  suddenly  lighting  up.]     Ah! 

WOODHOUSE. 
Eh? 

JOSEPHA. 

[Rising  and  seizing  his  hand.]  Mr.  Wood- 
house ! 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Startled.]  Y-y-yes? 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  163 

JOSEPHA. 

Will  you  do  it? 

WOODHOUSE. 

What ! 

JOSEPHA. 

Take  it  on  yourself ! 

WOODHOUSE. 
I! 

JOSEPHA. 

Oh,  be  sweet  to  me ! 

WOODHOUSE. 
Sweet ! 

JOSEPHA. 
Oblige  me! 

WOODHOUSE. 
\  Freeing  his  hand.]     My  clear  Miss  Quarendon  ! 

JOSEPHA. 

Chivalry  with  yon  isn't  a  dead  letter;  you've  just 
said  so. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[At  a  loss.]     I — ah — really 

JOSEPHA. 

Yes,  yes ;  I  quite  see  that  it  would  be  a  little  un- 
fair to  saddle  it  on  to  Mr.  Stulkeley;  but  you — 
you're  different,  aren't  you?  [Running  across  to 
STULKELEY.]  Mr.  Stulkeley — dear  Mr.  Stulkeley— 
persuade  him  !  [Linking  her  arm  in  STULKELEY^S.] 
Ah! 


164  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

STULKELEY. 

I — er — I  have  no  right,  Miss  Quarendon,  to  at- 
tempt to  put  pressure  upon  Mr.  Woodhouse 

JOSEPHA. 
Not  pressure ;  persuasion  ! 

STULKELEY. 

[Releasing  himself.]  All  that  I  am  entitled  to  do 
is^to  express  a  view — a  view  which  I  hold  very 
strongly 

JOSEPHA. 
Well ! 

STULKELEY. 

That  it  would  be  far  less  extravagant  to  credit 
anything  of  the  nature  of  an  unseemly  action  to  my 
cousin  Talbot  than  to  myself. 

JOSEPHA. 
[Turning  to  WOODHOUSE.]     There! 

WOODHOUSE. 
Upon  my  word,  Reggie ! 

JOSEPHA. 

[At  WOODHOUSE'S  side.]  Oblige  me!  Oblige 
me ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Edging  away  from  her.]  I  regret — I  regret  pro- 
foundly  


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  165 

JOSEPHA. 

You  won't ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

Impossible ! 

JOSEPHA. 
Oh! 

WOODHOUSE. 

Absolutely  impossible !  [Scowling  at  STULK- 
ELEY.]  Really,  my  dear  "Reggie! 

[He   retreats   in    disorder   to   the   fireplace. 
There  is  a  pause. 

JOSEPHA. 

[To  loth  the  men.]  So — neither  of  you — ? 
[They  hang  their  heads.}  Thank  you.  [Bitterly.} 
How — how  disobliging!  [In  a  dreary  voice,  the 
men  eying  her  furtively.}  Oh,  la,  la!  I  suppose 
I'd  better  make  another  rush  for  it,  and  get  on  with 
my  packing.  [Snatching  up  her  scarf.}  If  I'm 
pounced  upon,  I  don't  care.  [Moving  to  the  win- 
dow,] I  don't  care  what  becomes  of  me  henceforth. 
[Halting.]  Xo,  by  Jove,  I  won't  go  into  the  house 
yet  awhile!  [To  the  men,  passionately.]  If  you 
look  out  of  the  window  for  the  next  half-hour,  you'll 
have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  me  tramping  steadily  to- 
and-fro  in  the  snow  and  slush. 

STULKELEY. 
Miss  Quarendon — 

WOODHOUSE. 
My  dear  Miss  Quarendon 


166  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

JOSEPHA. 

Yes,  your  consciences'll  prick  you,  perhaps,  when 
you  realise  what  you  have  done.  [Confronting 
them.]  I  mean  it!  I  swear  I  don't  go  into  the 
house  again  till  I've  caught  a  jolly  good  cold  on  the 
chest — a  fatal  one.  You  watch !  To-and-f ro,  to- 
and-fro,  ankle-deep,  and  with  a  bare  throat !  [Nod- 
ding.] Farewell  to  you!  [Rolling  her  scarf  into  a 
ball  and  flinging  it  towards  the  men.]  Here!  I 
shan't  need  that ! 

[She  passes  through  the  curtains,  dropping 
them  behind  her,  and  there  is  the  sound 
of  the  opening  and  the  closing  of  the 
window.  The  men  stare  at  each  other, 
dumfounded. 

STULKELEY. 
[After  a  silence.]     Talbot. 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Dazed.]     Eh ! 

STULKELEY. 
She's  not  in  earnest? 

WOODHOUSE. 

J  Shutting  his  eyes.]    I  could  drink  a  whiskey-and 
a. 

STULKELEY. 
She  can't  be  in  earnest,  Talbot ! 

WOODHOUSE. 
As  a  rule,  it's  a  drink  I  detest 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  167 

STULKELEY. 

Go — go  and  look.  [WOODHOUSE  vanishes  through 
the  curtains.  STULKELEY  picks  up  the  scarf  and 
unconsciously  presses  it  to  his  bosom.  Presently 
WOODHOUSE  reappears.]  W-Well? 

WOODHOUSE. 
I  can't  see  her. 

STULKELEY. 

She's  not  fulfilling  her  threat! 
WOODHOUSE. 
Evidently. 

[They  breathe  more  freely.  STULKELEY  sits 
in  the  chair  by  the  oblong  table  with 
assumed  composure. 

STULKELEY. 

She — she  meant  merely  to  frighten  us. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Coming  to  STULKELEY  and  standing  over  him.} 
.Reggie,  let  this  be  a  lesson  to  you.  Xever  depart 
from  the  strict  truth  in  order  to  gain  an  advantage 
over  a  pal. 

STULKELEY. 

[Haughtily.}     I — I  don't 

WOODHOUSE. 

It's  my  firm  conviction  that  your  acquaintance 
with  old  Quarendon  is  pure  romance,  devised  to  in- 
gratiate yourself  with  a  pretty  gal.  WTe  owe  Miss 
Josey's  infernal  inspiration  to  you. 


168  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

STULKELEY. 

[Rising  with  great  dignity]  My  dear  Talbot,  to 
instruct  you  in  the  elementary  principles  of  logic  is 
a  task  for  which  I  have  neither  leisure  nor  inclina- 
tion ;  but  a  moment's  reflection  should  convince  even 
a  man  of  untrained  intelligence  that  Miss  Quaren- 
don's  regrettable  impulse  arose  primarily  from  no 
act  of  mine,  but  from  the  circumstance  of  her  having 
been  annoyed  this  afternoon  by  an  amorous  ruffian. 
[Turning  to  the  writing-case  and  cramming  the 
scarf  into  it.[  Er — look  out  once  more. 

[WOODHOUSE  goes  to  the  curtains  and  peeps 
through  them. 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Leaving  the  window.}     Nothing. 

STULKELEY. 

We  will  resume  our  work  at  the  point  at  which 
we  were  disturbed. 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Thoroughly  out  of  temper.]     Cocoa! 

STULKELEY. 

Cocoa.  [STULKELEY  returns  to  the  fireplace  as 
WOODHOUSE  reseats  himself  at  the  writing-table.] 
Where ? 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Examining  his  notes  angrily.]  We'd  got  to  some 
piffle  about  the  raw  stuff  and  the  manufactured. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  169 

STULKELEY. 

Yes,  yes.  [Dictating.]  "  There  is  raw  cocoa  and 
there  is  manufactured  cocoa." 

WOODHOUSE. 

Tsch !  [As  he  writes.]  We  should  have  been 
much  better  off — if  we'd  quartered  ourselves — at  a 
beastly  inn — in  the  beastly  town.  [Writing.]  "  — 
manufactured  cocoa/' 

STULKELEY. 

[Dictating.]  "  Both  are  taxed  under  the  present 
system." 

WOODHOUSE. 

[As  he  writes.]  I  loathe  a  psalm-singing  house- 
hold. You  mark  me — Mother  Panmure  will  pray 
for  us  all  to-night — openly — before  the  servants. 

STULKELEY. 
[Dictating.]     "  The  raw  material  pays  a  penny 

per  pound " 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Leaning  back  in  his  chair  and  holding  his  head.] 
Oh,  my  dear  Eeggie,  how  can  you ! 

STULKELEY. 
How  can  I ? 

WOODHOUSE. 

Hammer  away  at  this  tosh !  You're  forgetting 
that  we  may  be  mixed  up — are  mixed  up — in  a  dis- 
graceful mess. 


i;o  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

STULKELEY. 
On  the  contrary,  I  am  fully  alive  to  it. 

WOODHOUSE. 
Well,  but — but — but — what  do  you  intend  to  do? 

STULKELEY. 

[With  a  statesmanlike  air.]      In  my  judgment, 
there  is  only  one  thing  to  be  done. 

WOODHOUSE. 
What's  that? 

STULKELEY. 
To  wait  and  see. 

WOODHOUSE. 
Wait  and  see ! 

STULKELEY. 

Wait  and  see  what  happens.     [Dictating.]     "  The 
raw  material  pays  a  penny  per  pound." 

WOODHOUSE. 

Ugh!     [.46-  lie  writes.]     Gross  impertinence — to 
suspect  me — of  such  an  offence  ! 

STULKELEY. 
To  suspect  us! 

WOODIIOUSE. 
[Writing.]  " — a  penny  per  pound/' 

STULKELEY. 

[Dictating.]      "  The   manufactured  article  pays 
twopence  per  pound." 


PRESERVING  MR.  PA^MURE  171 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Jumping  up  and  going  to  STULKELEY.]  Blow 
the  manufactured  article!  Who  the  devil  is  the 
cad,  Beggie? 

STULKELEY. 

I  gravely  distrust  Hebblethwaite.  These  florid, 
plethoric  men ! 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Resentfully.]     And  we've  given  him  pig-iron! 

STULKELEY. 
It  must  be  he  or  Miss  Dulcie's  fiance. 

WOODHOUSE. 
Or  Panmure. 

STULKELEY. 

Xo,  no — didn't  you  hear  ? — she  has  absolved  Pan- 
mure. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Palling  at  a  tiny  moustache.]  She's  tremen- 
dously eager  to  save  somebody. 

STULKELEY. 
[Pointing  to  the  writing-table.]     Shall  we ? 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Returning  to  the  writing-table  thoughtfully.] 
What  puzzles  me  is,  why  should  she  go  out  of  her 
way  to  whitewash  one  person ? 


172  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

STULKELEY. 

[Dictating.]  "  The  manufactured  article  pays 
twopence  per  pound." 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Halting  at  the  chair  by  the  writing-table.] 
Hark! 

STULKELEY. 

Eh? 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Listening.]     Raining. 

STULKELEY. 
[Listening.]     Heavily. 

WOODHOUSE. 

She  said  it  had  begun  to  drizzle.  [Again  going  to 
the  curtains  and  peering  through  them.]  Pish! 
Blinding. 

STULKELEY. 

[To  himself.]  The  raw  material  pays  a  penny 
per  pound,  manufactured  it  pays  double. 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Uttering  a  cry.]     Ah  ! 

[Pie  dashes  through  the  curtains. 

STULKELEY. 

What — !  [He  is  making  for  the  window  when 
WOODHOUSE  reappears  with  a  look  of  horror.] 
Talbot ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

She's  there ! 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  173 

STULKELEY. 

No! 

WOODHOUSE. 

She's  there,  I  tell  you ! 

STULKELEY. 

Oh!  [He  disappears  through  the  curtains. 
WOODHOUSE  paces  the  room  agitatedly  until  STULK- 
ELEY returns.}  There  is — a  figure — moving  about. 

WOODHOUSE. 

A  figure!  It's  she!  It's  that  exquisite  little 
creature ! 

STULKELEY. 

Merciful  powers ! 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Coming  to  STULKELEY.]     Oh,  my  dear  Eeggie! 

STULKELEY. 
A  cruel  situation  to  be  placed  in ! 

WOODHOUSE. 
Oughtn't  we  to  send  a  message ! 

STULKELEY. 
To  whom  ? 

WOODHOUSE. 
To  the  Panmures. 

STULKELEY. 

[Crossing  to  the  right.}  My  dear  Talbot,  that 
would  involve  us  still  further.  [Pacing  the  room.} 
What  would  these  good  people  think? 


174  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Turning  up  his  trousers.]  We  can't  have  her 
death  at  our  door.  [Turning  up  his  coat-collar.] 
We  must  get  her  in. 

STULKELEY. 

She'll  accept  that  as  a  tacit  consent  to  her  prepos- 
terous proposal. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Turning  down  his  coat-collar.]  Damn  it,  I  wish 
she'd  never  been  born. 

STULKELEY. 
And  I,  fervently. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Peering  through  the  curtains  again.]  An  im- 
petuous, blundering  little  minx ! 

STULKELEY. 
Close  the  curtains.     She  sees  you  peeping. 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Yearningly.]     Her  pretty  neck ! 

STULKELEY. 

She'll  soon  tire  of  her  martyrdom,  if  we  ignore 
her.  Close  the  curtains. 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Leaving  the  window.]     I  hate  her! 

STULKELEY. 
[At  the  fireplace.]    Anyhow,  we  must  protect  our- 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  175 

selves.       [Pointing    to    the    writing-table    impera- 
tively.]    Where  were  we? 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Weakly.}     Oh,  my  dear  old  chap ! 

STULKELEY. 

For  heaven's  sake,  Talbot,  pull  yourself  together ! 
[  Firmly.  ]  Cocoa. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Dropping  into  the  chair  at  the  writing-table  and 
feeling  for  his  pen.]  I  hate  her!  [Reading  his 
notes  confusedly.]  "  Th'rawmateria'payspennyper- 
pounV 

STULKELEY. 

[Dictating,  his  fists  tightly  clenched.]  "  Manu- 
factured— manufactured  it  pays  double." 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Listening.]     What's  that? 

STULKELEY. 
[Listening.]     Hail. 

WOODHOUSE. 

Hail  !  [Leaning  his  head  upon  his  hands.]  Oh! 
oh,  her  pretty  skin  ! 

STULKELEY. 

[Unsteadily.]  "Manufactured — it  pays — 
double." 

WOODHOUSE. 

[  Writing.  ]     "  Manu— f actured " 

STULKELEY. 

[Suddenly,  turning  up  his  trousers.]  Tal- 
bot ! 


i;6  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

WOODHOUSE. 

Eh? 

STULKELEY. 

I  can't  bear  it!  [Turning  up  his  coat-collar. \ 
More  wood  on  the  fire !  [Hurrying  to  the  window.] 
Make  the  room  warmer! 

[He  bolts  through  the  curtains.  With  an  ex- 
clamation, WOODHOUSE  leaps  to  his  feet 
and  proceeds  to  throw  log  after  log  into 
the  grate. 

WOODHOUSE. 

Oh!  [Throwing  a  log.]  Oh!  [Another  log.} 
The  little  pet.  [A  log.}  Oh,  the  little  flower !  [A 
log.]  Dainty  little  rosebud  !  [Beating  the  logs  with 
the  poker.]  Little  garden  of  roses !  Oh !  Oh ! 
[The  curtains  are  parted  and  JOSEPHA  is  almost 
hurled  into  the  room.  Her  dress  is  heavy  with  wet. 
tails  of  hair  Jiang  over  her  eyes}  and  altogether  she  is 
in  a  deplorable  condition.]  My  dear  little  lady! 
[STULKELEY  appears,  blown.] 

STULKELEY. 

[To  JOSEPHA,  wiping  his  face  with  his  handker- 
chief.] I — I  beg  your  pardon. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Sullenly,  rubbing  her  arms  and  panting.}  I'm 
not  accustomed  to  such  rough  usage. 

STULKELEY. 

[Turning  down  his  coat-collar  and  trousers.] 
There  was  no  time  for  formalities. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PAN  MURE  177 

JOSEPHA. 

This  house  is  a  nest  of  savages ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

Don't  say  that ! 

JOSEPIIA. 

[Beginning  to  cry.}  Oh,  what  a  fool  I  have  made 
of  myself ! 

STULKELEY  and  WOODHOUSE. 

[Soothingly.]    No,  no ! 

JOSEPIIA. 
I  have ;  but  I  was  so  d-d-d-disappointed. 

STULKELEY  and  WOODHOUSE. 
Yes,  yes. 

JOSEPHA. 

I  was  m-m-m-mad.  [Sobbing.]  I  repented  al- 
most as  soon  as  I'd  left  you.  [Surveying  herself 
helplessly.]  Oh,  what  shall  I  do!  [Examining 
her  dress.]  Ele ven-and-a-half -guineas ! 

STULKELEY. 
[Pointing  to  the  fire.]     Dry  yourself  here. 

JOSEPIIA. 

Dry  myself!  I'm  soaked  through  to  my — I'm 
wet  through. 

STULKELEY. 

Of  course !  How  stupid  I  am !  You  must  get 
back  to  your  room. 


178  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

JOSEPHA. 

[Her  teeth  chattering.]     I-I-I'm  shut  out.    I-I-I 
heard  the  servants  locking  up. 

WOODHOUSE. 

She1  can  stay  here  till  we're  all  at  prayers.    That's 
her  chance  of  sneaking  upstairs. 

JOSEPHA. 
Ah,  yes;  I  have  excused  myself  from  prayers. 

STULKELEY. 

[Looking  at  his  watch.]     Every  minute  is  a  nail 
in  her  coffin. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Kicking  off  her  shoes.]     If  I  keep  on  the  move — 

[ WOODHOUSE  picks  up  her  shoes  and  carries  them  to 

the  fire.]     Oh,  thank  you  awfully.     [To  both.]    You 

are  good  to  me ;  and  after  my  outrageous  conduct ! 

[She  walks  about  the  room,  holding  her  arms 

away  from  her  sides. 

STULKELEY. 

[Seized  with  an  idea.]     Ah ! 

[He  goes  to  the  washing-cabinet,  opens  the 
door,  and  switches  on  the  light. 

JOSEPHA. 
[On  the  left,  shivering.]     Oh-h-h-h !  Oh-h-h-h! 

STULKELEY. 
[To  JOSEPHA.]     Miss  Quarendon ! 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  179 

JOSEPHA. 

Y-y-y-yes  ? 

STULKELEY. 

There's  a  smoking-jacket  in  here  and  a  pair  of 
slippers. 

JOSEPHA. 
S-mo-mo-moking- jacket ? 

STULKELEY. 

I  entreat  you — I  entreat  you  to  guard  against 
catching  a  chill. 

JOSEPHA. 
Oh,  I  cou-ou-ouldn't ! 

STULKELEY. 

Apart  from  the  risk  you  are  running,  you  must 
be  so  horribly  uncomfortable! 

JOSEPHA. 

Uncomfortable — !     Oh ! 

[She  wavers,  rushes  to  the  washing -cabinet, 
enters  it,  and  STULKELEY  closes  the 
door. 

STULKELEY. 

[After  a  brief  pause.]     Ha!     [To  WOODHOUSE.] 
A  happy  thought,  I  flatter  myself ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Enviously.]      Stupendous !     I  congratulate  you 
on  your  amazing  resource. 


i8o  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

STULKELEY. 

[Stiffly.]  It  may  be  the  means  at  least  of  avert- 
ing a  serious  illness. 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Sneering.]     Oh,  at  least. 

STULKELEY. 

[Walking  about.]  Dear  me,  dear  me,  what  an  in- 
justice I  did  her ! 

WOODHOUSE. 
Yes,  you  didn't  hesitate  to  insinuate 

STULKELEY. 

I  admit — I  candidly  admit — her  threat  of  self- 
destruction  appeared  to  me  to  lack  ingenuousness. 
I  owe  her  a  most  abject  apology.  I — I — I  grovel  at 
her  feet.  Anybody  more  entirely  without  guile  Fve 
never  met.  [Halting  and  regarding  WOODHOUSE 
significantly.]  I  cannot  understand  your  decided 
antipathy  to  her,  my  dear  Talbot. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[  Cli  oking.  ]     Antipathy  ! 

STULKELEY. 

Hating  her,  as  you  say  you  do.  [In  a  transport.] 
Her  nature,  unless  I  am  egregiously  mistaken — her 
nature  is  like  crystal.  [With  a  change  of  tone, 
glancing  at  the  door  of  the  cabinet.]  It  will  be  deli- 
cate of  us  to  show  Miss  Quarendon  that  we  are  en- 
grossed in  work.  [Pointing  to  the  writing-table.] 
Let  us 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  181 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Grinding  his  teeth.]     Cocoa? 

STULKELEY. 

Cocoa.  [ WOODHOUSE  takes  his  seat  at  the  writing- 
table  again,  first  kicking  the  chair  viciously.] 

Where ? 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Referring  to  his  notes.]  Oh,  the  blessed  old  raw 
material  is  still  paying  a  penny  a  pound. 

STULKELEY. 

[Leaning  against  the  chair  on  the  right  of  the 
fireplace,  dictating  absently.]  u  The — ah — h'm— 

the   manufactured  article [humming]    h?m, 

h'm,   h'm !      "  — the — h'm — the   manufactured 

article  pays  two-pence  per  pound,"     [Humming.] 
Tra,  la,  la,  la ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Turning  to  STULKELEY.]  My  dear  chap,  for- 
give me  for  directing  your  attention  to  such  a 
paltry  detail,  but  we  are  not  setting  this  to  music, 
you  know. 

[A  whistle  is  heard,  proceeding  from  the 
cabinet.  The  men  look  at  each  other  in- 
quiringly. The  whistle  is  repeated. 

STULKELEY. 
[Hastening  to  the  door  of  the  cabinet.]     Yes? 

JOSEPHA. 
[From  within.]     Mr.  Stulkeley 


i&j  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

STULKELEY. 
I  am  here. 

JOSEPH  A. 

[Opening  the  door  a  few  inches  and  handing  out 
her  dress.]  Please  hang  my  frock  on  the  fender. 
[He  takes  the  dress  from  her.]  Oh,  tliank  you. 

[She  closes  the  door  and  STULKELEY  goes  to 
the  fireplace  and  arranges  the  dress  ten- 
derly but  clumsily  upon  the  fender-stool. 

STULKELEY. 
Poor  girl !    P-o-o-r  girl !    Saturated ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Writhing  with  jealousy.]  You  are  bungling 
that  fearfully,  my  dear  Eeggie. 

STULKELEY. 
It  will  persist  in  falling  into  the  hearth. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Jumping  up.]  Spread  it  out,  man.  [Grabbing 
at  the  dress.]  Can't  you  spread  it  out ! 

STULKELEY. 

[Resigning  the  dress  to  WOODHOUSE,  mildly.] 
My  dear  Talbot—  - ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Rearranging  the  dress.]  If  I  couldn't  maid  a 
lady  better  than  you're  doing  it,  I'd  poison  myself. 

STULKELEY. 
[  Thinking.]     Talbot 


PRESERVING  MR.  PAN  MURE  183 

WOODHOUSE. 

It's  steaming !   .It's  steaming  beautifully ! 

STULKELEY. 

[Moving  to  the  left.]  Talbot,  I'll  send  a  telegram 
in  the  morning  to  my  sister. 

WOODHOUSE. 
What  about? 

STULKELEY. 

About  Miss  Quarendon.  A  long  and  explicit 
telegram ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

Yes,  she  might  find  Miss  Quarendon  another 
billet. 

STULKELEY. 
Another  billet?     Oh,  there's  no  hurry  for  that. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Turning  to  STULKELEY,  suspiciously.]  No 
hurry  ? 

STULKELEY. 

[Walking  up  and  down.]  A  gently-nurtured  girl 
in  a  position  little  higher  than  a  menial's!  Ter- 
rible !  Too  terrible ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

Then  what ? 

STULKELEY. 

I'll  ask  Joan  to  invite  her  to  Eaton  Square  for  a 
month  or  two. 


184  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Between  his  teeth.}     To  your  house ! 

STULKELEY. 

[Testily.]      My  dear  fellow,  to  whose  house,  if 
not  mine,  could  my  sister  invite  her  ? 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Under     his     breath,     glaring     at     STULKELEY 
fiercely.]     Oho-o-o! 

STULKELEY. 

Perhaps  Miss  Quarendon  can  delay  her  departure 
to-morrow  till  it's  fixed  up. 

[There  is  a  cry  from  JOSEPHA.     The  men 
look  at  each  other  in  alarm. 

WOODHOUSE  and  STULKELEY. 
Eh? 

JOSEPHA'S  VOICE. 
Mr.  Stulkeley ! 

STULKELEY. 

[Bounding  to  the  door  of  the  cabinet.]     What's 
the  matter? 

JOSEPHA. 

[From  within.]     The  matter !    I've  heard  nearly 
every  word  you've  been  saying! 

STULKELEY. 
Indeed ! 

JOSEPHA. 
Your  sister !     Eaton  Square !     You're  not  seri- 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  185 

ous!     Do  you  really  think  she'll  have  me?     Oh, 
you're  the  kindest  man  on  earth ! 

STULKELEY. 
[Rather  uneasily.]  Er — not  at  all. 

JOSEPH  A. 
M-r.  Stulkeiey ! 

STULKELEY. 

Yes? 

JOSEPHA. 

Bar  politeness,  you  and  Mr.  Woodhouse  are  very 
busy,  aren't  you  ? 

STULKELEY. 
V-very. 

JOSEPHA. 

Because,  if  you  wouldn't  take  any  notice  of  me,  I 
could  dry  my  hair  by  the  fire. 

STULKELEY. 

I  assure  you 

JOSEPHA. 

Oh,  thank  you.     [Joyously.]     Ha,  ha,  ha!     Go 
away;  I  shall  be  ready  to  come  out  directly. 

[STULKELEY  leaves  the  door  and  encounters 
WOODHOUSE.    They  whisper. 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Hoarsely.]  Eeggie 

STULKELEY. 
Eh? 

WOODHOUSE. 
Heard  every  word! 


i86  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

STULKELEY. 

Phew !    Luckily  I  said  nothing  but  what's  pleas- 
ant. 

WOODHOUSE. 

Pleasant !     [Extending  his  anus.]     Pve  an  antip- 
athy to  her !    J  hate  her ! 

STULKELEY. 
My  dear  Talbot,  let  this  be  a  lesson  to  you. 

WOODHOUSE. 
Lesson  I 

STULKELEY. 

Learn  to  control  your  tongue — always  your  worst 
enemy ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

I  was  agitated — excited— 

[  JOSEPHA  breaks  into  song.  The  men  listen 
for  a  ivhile,  insensibly  swaying  to  the 
melody;  then  STULKELEY  points  to  the 
writing-table. 

STULKELEY. 

We  must 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Furiously.]     Ha!    Cocoa! 

JOSEPHA'S  VOICE. 
I'm  coming  out ! 

[The  men  sit  hurriedly,  WOODHOUSE  at  the 
writing-table,  STULKELEY — having  first 
turned  the  chair  in  a  direction  opposite 
to  that  of  the  door  of  the  cabinet — in  the 
armchair  by  the  oblong  table. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  187 

STULKELEY. 
[To  WOODHOUSE.]     Where ? 

WOODHOUSE. 

[With  biting  distinctness.]  "The  raw  material 
pays  a  penny  per  pound." 

[JOSEPHA  appears,  carrying  a  towel.  She  is 
wearing  the  smoking- jacket  and  a  silk 
petticoat  of  many  flounces  and,  on  her 
bare  feet,  the  wool-work  slippers.  She 
closes  the  door  of  the  cabinet  and  goes 
quietly  to  the  fireplace. 

STULKELEY. 

[Dictating.]  "The  manufactured  article  pays 
two-pence  per  pound."  [Gently,  as  WOODHOUSE 
writes.]  Is  that  you,  Miss  Quarendon? 

JOSEPHA. 

[Sitting  upon  the  fender-stool  and  removing  her 
combs — in  a  whisper.]  Yes. 

STULKELEY. 
I  had  no  idea  that  that  door  is  so  thin. 

JOSEPHA. 

I  wouldn't  have  it  the  sixtieth  part  of  an  inch 
thicker  while  I  can  hear  such  good  news  through  it. 
[Gratefully.]  My  dear,  dear  friend  ! 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Wriggling.]     " — two-pence  per  pound." 


i88  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMVRE 

JOSEPHA. 

To  think  that  ten  minutes  ago  I  was  weary  of  life ! 
[Laughing  gaily  as  she  shakes  her  hair  down.] 
Life  !  Ha,  ha ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

[  Gnawing  his  pen.  ]  "  The  manufactured  ar- 
ticle  »  ! 

JOSEPHA. 

[Who,  with  STULKELEY,  has  become  unconscious 
of  WOODHOUSE'S  presence.]  Mr.  Stulkeley 

STULKELEY. 
Eh? 

WOODHOUSE. 

My  dear  Reggie ! 

JOSEPHA. 
[To  STULKELEY.]     Ah,  I'm  hindering  you! 

STULKELEY. 

Not  a  bit.  [To  WOODHOUSE.]  One  moment,  Tal- 
bot. 

JOSEPHA. 

[To  STULKELEY,  wistfully.]  Mr.  Stulkeley,  I 
hope  I  shan't  reward  you  by  bringing  trouble  upon 
ydur  abode  as  I've  brought  it  upon  this. 

STULKELEY. 
I'm  content  to  make  the  experiment. 

JOSEPHA. 
[Beating  her  hands  together  in  ecstasy.]     Oh! 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  189 

JOSEPHA. 

Oh !  [WooDHOUSE  flings  his  pen  at  the  inkstand 
violently.]  I  beg  your  pardon.  [Putting  her  finger 
to  her  lips.]  H'm  ! 

STULKELEY. 

[To  WOODHOUSE.]  Er — where  are  we,  my  dear 
Talbot? 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Emphatically.]  "  The  manufactured  arti- 
cle  " 

STULKELEY. 

Yes,  yes.  [His  hand  to  his  brow,  trying  to  col  led- 
his  thoughts.]  "  The — ah — the  manufactured  ar- 
ticle  "  ?  It  pays  two-pence  a  pound,  doesn't  it  ? 

JOSEPHA. 
[Whistling  to  STULKELEY,  softly.}     Whisssht! 

STULKELEY. 

[Half-turning  to  her.]     Eh? 
JOSEPHA. 

[Slipping  her  combs  into  a  pocket  of  the  smoking  - 
jacket — roguishly.]  Don't  be  wild  if  you  find  the 
pockets  of  your  jacket  full  of  combs  when  you  next 
wear  it. 

STULKELEY. 
My  jacket?    That  isn't  my  jacket. 

JOSEPHA. 
Not?    W-w-whose ? 


igo  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

STULKELEY. 
I  presume  it's  Mr.  Panmure's. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Starting  up  with  a  cry  of  horror.}     Oh! 

STULKELEY  and  WOODHOUSE. 
[Turning  to  her.]     What ? 

JOSEPHA. 

Of  course  it  is !  I've  seen  the  wretch  in  it !  Oh, 
let  me  take  it  off!  [The  men  rise  and  go  to  her.} 
Lend  me  a  coat,  one  of  you !  Give  me  my  shoes ! 
[Frantically.]  Oh-h-h-h!  [To  STULKELEY.] 
Lend  me  your  coat ! 

STULKELEY. 
Miss  Quarendon ! 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Looking  at  STULKELEY.]    Reggie — PANMURE  ! 

STULKELEY. 

[Looking  at  WOODHOUSE.]  Panmure !  \There 
is  a  pause  and  then  a  knock  at  the  door  on  the 
right.]  Sssh !  [The  handle  of  the  door  is  turned. 
STULKELEY  raises  his  voice.}  Who  is  it? 

PAXMURE. 

[Without.]  Panmure.  [Silently  and  swiftly 
they  bundle  JOSEPHA  into  the  cabinet  with  her  be- 
longings and  close  the  door  upon  her.  Then  WOOD- 
HOUSE  seats  himself  at  the  writing-table  as  STUL- 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  191 

KELEY  unlocks  the  door  on  the  right  and  admits 
PANMURE.]  Sorry  if  I  incommode  you,  gentle- 
men. 

STULKELEY. 

[TTO/t  elaborate  courtesy. [  Come  in.  Mr.  Wood- 
house  and  I  have  just  finished.  Glad  to  see  you. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Gathering  up  his  papers  and  switching  off  the 
light  of  the  lamp  on  the  writing-table.]  Extremely 
glad,  my  dear  Mr.  Panmure. 

PANMURE. 

[Moving  to  the  middle  of  the  room,  austerely  l)iil 
with  a  shifting  eye.]  I — er — ahem! — I've  put  it 
oft'  as  long  as  I  could. 

STULKELEY. 
[Shutting  the  door  and  advancing.]     Put  it  off? 

PANMURE. 
A  most  disagreeable  duty,  b'George ! 

STULKELEY. 
[Suavely.]     Bless  me ! 

PANMURE. 

[At  the  fireplace.]  In  fact,  I  can't  recollect  when 
I've  had  a  more  disagreeable  duty  to  discharge,  gen- 
tlemen. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Turning  in  his  chair  so  that  he  faces  PANMURE.] 
Good  gracious ! 


1Q2  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

PANMURE. 

And  that's  saying  something,  sitting  as  I  do  on 
the  bench  at  Polehampton — a  J.P.,  b'George ! — and 
dealing  with  distressing  cases — harrowing  cases — as 
I  frequently  have  to. 

STULKELEY. 
But  what ? 

WOODHOUSE. 
[To  STULKELEY.]  My  dear  Reggie! 

PANMURE. 

Mr.  Stulkeley — Mr.  Woodhouse — a  young  lady 
staying  under  my  roof  has  been  insulted. 

STULKELEY. 
Insulted  ? 

PANMURE. 

Insulted,  sir — kissed — slobbered  over;  and  by  a 
man  who's  also  staying  under  my  roof. 

STULKELEY. 

When ? 

PANMURE. 

This  afternoon,  after  tea.  We've  found  it  out  by 
chance ;  she  refuses  to  give  him  away. 

WOODHOUSE. 
A  young  lady? 

PANMURE. 

[To  WOODHOUSE.]  Yes,  sir,  and  none  the  less  a 
lady,  and  deserving  of  proper  respect,  because  she 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  193 

has  the  misfortune  to  be  employed  by  me  as  a  gov- 
erness— er — because  she  has  the  misfortune  to  be 

obliged 

STULKELEY. 
Miss  Quarendon  ? 

WOODHOUSE. 
Miss  Josey ! 

PANMURE. 

[To  WOODHOUSE,  severely.]  " Josey"  to  those 
who  have  the  right  to  call  her  by  her  kennel-name, 
Mr.  Woodhouse — er — by  her  pet-name. 

STULKELEY. 
[Reprovingly.]     Talbot! 

PANMURE. 
Now,  gentlemen,  we  don't  kiss  girls  in  my  house 

without  being  perfectly  sure  beforehand [ivith  a 

wave  of  the  hand]  er — ah — what  I  mean  is,  this  sort 
o'  caper  won't  do  at  The  Clewers,  I  can  tell  you. 
[Puffing  himself  out.]  No,  no;  this  won't  do  for 
me,  gentlemen. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Rising.]  My  dear  friend,  have  you  any  no- 
tion  ? 

STULKELEY. 
As  to  who  the  offender  is. 

PANMUEE. 

He  must  be  one  of  a  quartette;  we  haven't  got 
beyond  that,  at  present. 


194  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

STULKELEY. 

The  four  being ? 

PANMURE. 

[To  STULKELEY.]  Hebblethwaite,  Hughie  Lor- 
ing,  Mr.  Woodhouse  and  yourself.  [STULKELEY  and 
WOODHOUSE  turn  away  without  speaking.]  Heb- 
blethwaite and  Hugie  have  been  charged  with  it; 
I've  charged  'em  with  it. 

STULKELEY. 

[Drawing  Ms  breath  in  forcibly  through  his  nos- 
trils.] Well? 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Crooking  his  fingers.]    Well? 

PANMURE. 

[Becoming  unhinged  under  the  strain]  They— 
they — they  won't  admit  it.  [Quivering.]  Obsti- 
nate brutes !  Neither  of  'em'll  admit  it.  [  Wiping 
the  perspiration  from  his  brow  and  throat.]  Boys — 
[coming  forward]  boys — confess!  [A  pause] 
Look  me  in  the  face,  boys,  if  you  can.  Oh,  I'm  a 
man  o'  the  world,  and  if  this  hadn't  occurred  in  my 
own  house — under  my  roof — a  gentleman's  roof, 
b'George ! — I  say,  if  this  hadn't  happened  under  my 
own  roof,  I  might  have  taken  a  more  lenient  view  of 
it.  But  you — my  guests,  you  know — receiving  my 
hospitality — oh,  I  don't  want  to  be  hard,  boys,  but — 
which  of  you's  done  it  ? 

[There  is  another  pause,  and  then  WOOD- 
HOUSE  and  STULKELEY,  as  if  by  mutual 
agreement,  turn  and  approach  PANMURE 
closely. 


* 
PRESERVING  MR.  PAN  MURE  195 

STULKELEY. 

Mr.  Panmure — 

WOODHOUSE. 

Panmure 

PANMURE. 

H-hey? 

STULKELEY. 

[Tapping  PANMURE'S  shoulder.}  You  are  the 
man. 

PANMURE. 

[Attempting  to  Muster.]     Wh-a-a-t! 
WOODHOUSE. 

[Laying  a  finger  on  PANMURE'S  waistcoat.]  You 
have  done  it,  Panmure. 

PANMURE. 

Ho,  Pm  the  man,  am  I!  I — Pve  done  it,  hey! 
[Breaking  away  from  them.]  Here !  We'll  see 
about  this !  Late  as  it  is,  you  shall  be  driven  to  the 
Crown  at  Polehampton  to-night,  bag  and  baggage ! 
[He  is  making  for  the  door  on  the  right  when  the 
door  of  the  cbainet  opens  and  JOSEPHA  appears.  He 
recoils  and,  with  a  moan,  falls  into  the  chair  by  the 
oblong  table.]  Oh-h-h! 

JOSEPHA. 

[Closing  the  door  of  the  cabinet  and  coming  to 
STULKELEY  and  WOODHOUSE,  appealingly.]  Mr. 

Stulkeley — Mr.  Woodhouse 

PANMURE. 

Oh !  Oh,  don't  listen  to  her,  boys !  She's  been 
concocting  some  story  or  other.  We  picked  her  out 


ig6  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

of  the  gutter,  my  missus  and  I.     Untrustworthy 
little  drab ! 

STULKELEY. 

[Coming  to  PANMURE.]     Mr.  Panmure 

PANMURE. 

[Sitting  upright.]  What's  she  doing  in  my  li- 
brary, dressed  like  that — in  my  jacket — and  my  slip- 
pers !  Disgraceful !  In  a  gentleman's  house.  Dis- 
graceful ! 

[He  is  struggling  to  his  feet  when  STUL- 
KELEY pushes  him  back  with  a  light 
touch. 

STULKELEY. 

[To  PANMURE.]  Miss  Quarendon  was  so  impru- 
dent as  to  venture  out  in  the  rain 

PANMURE. 

She's  a  liar.  And  you're  abetting  her.  You're  all 
liars. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Joining  STULKELEY.]  You  moderate  your  tone, 
Panmure. 

JOSEPHA. 

[To  STULKELEY  and  WOODHOUSE.]  Mr.  Stul- 
keley — Mr.  Woodhouse — everything  that's  taken 
place  here  to-night  is  in  confidence,  remember ! 

PANMURE. 

[Discerning  a  ray  of  hope.]  Yes,  in  confidence — 
in  confidence ! 

JOSEPHA. 

[To  STULKELEY  and  WOODHOUSE.]     You're  on 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  197 

your  honour !     Oh,  for  Lottie's  sake — for  Mrs.  Pan- 
mure's  sake — you  won't  betray  him,  will  you? 

PANMURE. 

No,  for  my  wife's  sake,  boys,  let  me  off !  It's  my 
first  offence  since  Lottie  married  me ;  I  swear  it's  my 
first  offence.  I'm  always  merciful,  myself,  to  a  first 
offence,  when  I'm  on  the  bench. 

JOSEPHA. 

[To  STULKELEY  and  WOODHOUSE.]  Ah,  tell  him 
he's  safe !  Stop  him  making  such  a  sickening  exhi- 
bition of  himself ! 

PANMURE. 

[Piteously.]  I'm  your  host,  boys — I've  done  you 
well 

JOSEPHA. 
[Her  hands  to  her  ears.]     Stop  him! 

PANMURE. 

[To  STULKELEY  and  WOODHOUSE.]  You're  not 
struck  dumb,  are  yer?  You're  unnerving  me! 
Don't  unnerve  me,  boys.  I've  got  to  preach  a  ser- 
mon to  you  in  a  minute  or  two — 

JOSEPHA. 
[Hysterically.]     Ha,  ha,  ha! 

PANMURE. 

I  have;  I've  got  to  read  you  a  discourse.  [Drag- 
ging his  manuscript  from  his  pocket.}  I  sha'n't  be 
able  to  see  a  word  of  it,  if  you  unnerve  me.  [Staring 


198  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

at  the  paper.]  I — I  can't  see  a  word  of  it !  Oh,  do 
ease  my  mind,  boys !  Ease  my  mind ;  there's  good 
boys! 

JOSEPHA. 
[Stamping  her  foot.]     Stop  him ! 

STULKELEY. 
[Sternly.]     Mr.  Panmure 

PANMURE. 
Hey? 

STULKELEY. 

There  is  no  need  for  Miss  Quarendon  to  remind 

us 

WOODHOUSE. 

None  whatever. 

PANMURE. 
In  confidence ! 

STULKELEY. 

[After  a  glance  at  JOSEPHA.]  I  speak  for  Mr. 
Woodhouse  and  myself — complete,  inviolable  con- 
fidence. 

PANMURE. 

Oh !      [Pocketing  his  sermon  and  jumping 

up.]  Oh,  boys!  [Offering  his  hand  to  STUL- 
KELEY.] Stulkeley,  I — I  humbly  apologise.  (STUL- 
KELEY turns  on  his  heel  and  moves  away  to  the  right. 
PAXMURE  offers  his  hand  to  WOODHOUSE.]  Wood- 
house,  a  gentleman  can't  do  more [ WOOD- 
HOUSE stall's  disdainfully  to  the  fireplace.  PAN- 
MURE  goes  to  JOSEPHA.]  Josey — Josey,  you're  a 
duchess. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  199 

JOSEPHA. 

[Shrinking  from  him.]     Ah-h-h ! 

STULKELEY. 
[Suddenly.]     Sssh !     Silence! 

[Everybody  stands  quite  still,  listening   to 
sounds  in  the  passage. 

PANMURE. 
[H'is  eyes  bolting.]     Great  Scot! 

STULKELEY. 
[Opening  the  door  of  the  cabinet.]     Miss  Quaren- 

don !     [ JOSEPHA  makes  a  dash  for  the  cabinet 

and  enters  it.    STULKELEY  closes  the  door  and  comes 
to  PANMURE.]     Hebblethwaite ! 

PANMURE. 

And  Hughie !     [In  a  whisper,  as  they  all  watch 
the  door  on  the  right.]     They've  lost  their  heads. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[In  a  whisper,  joining  STULKELEY.]     Lost  their 
heads  ? 

PANMURE. 
Oh,  there's  been  a  terrific  scene. 

STULKELEY. 
Scene  ? 

PANMURE. 

[With  a  queer  look.]    Yes ;  their  women  won't  be- 
lieve 'em. 


200  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

[The  door  on  the  right  is  thrown  open  and 
HEBBLETHWAITE  enters,  followed  by 
LORING.  HEBBLETHWAITE  is  in  a  state 
of  excitement  bordering  on  apoplexy; 
LORING  is  like  a  man  walking  in  a 
troubled  sleep. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[To  PANMURE,  hoarsely.}  Well!  [PANMURE 
goes  to  him.}  St.  John ? 

PANMURE. 

Alfred 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Yes — yes — yes  ? 

PANMURE. 

[To  LORING,  who  has  partly  shut  the  door  and 
joined  HEBBLETHWAITE.]  Hughie — [to  both] 
boys,  you  must  prepare  yourselves. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Prepare  ourselves ! 

LORING. 

[In  a  hollow  voice.]     Prepare ? 

PANMURE. 
I — I  can't  do  anything  with  'em. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Can't  do  anything — 

LORING. 
Can't ! 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  201 

PANMURE. 

They  deny  it,  both  of  'em.  [To  STULKELEY  and 
WOODHOUSE.]  Don't  you,  boys  ? 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Loosening  his  collar.]    Deny  it! 

LORING. 
Oh-h-h-h ! 

PANMURE. 

[Buttonholing  HEBBLETHWAITE.]  Alfred,  try  to 
exercise  more  self-control,  ol'man. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Try  to ! 

LORING. 
[Laughing  idiotically.]    He,  he,  he,  he ! 

PANMURE. 

[To  HEBBLETHWAITE.]  You'll  live  it  down, 
ol'man;  you're  young  enough  yet  to  live  it  down, 
[Urgently.]  Alf! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Elbowing  PANMURE  aside  and  confronting 
WOODHOUSE  and  STULKELEY.]  Stulkeley — Wood- 
house 

STULKELEY. 

[Advancing  to  HEBBLETHWAITE,  sympathetic- 
ally.] My  dear  Hebblethwaite 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Breathing   heavily.]      Stulkeley — my   old   lady 


202  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

and  I — all  these  years — she's  been  jealous  before — 
never  like  this — thought  it  had  died  out — it's  blazed 
up  again — awful — help  me — the  truth — you  or 
Woodhouse — rather  it  were  Woodhouse — always  had 
an  esteem  for  you — Stulkeley ! 

STULKELEY. 

[Unhappily.]    My  dear  Hebblethwaite 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Yes — yes  ? 

STULKELEY. 

I  grieve — I  grieve  at  not  being  able  to  aid  you  in 
your  sad  predicament.  ' 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Dully.]     Not— able ? 

STULKELEY. 

[With  emotion.]    My  dear  fellow ! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Woodhouse,  then!  Woodhouse!  [STULKELEY 
steps  back  to  allow  WOODHOUSE  to  reply  for  him- 
self.] Woodhouse ? 

[WOODHOUSE  shrugs  his  shoulders  commis- 
eratively  and  shakes  his  head.  HEB- 
BLETHWAITE groans. 

LOIUNG. 

[Flapping  his  arms  despairingly.]  He,  he,  he, 
he! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Slowly,   turning   to   LORING.]      Yes,  you — you 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  203 

villain!     [Furiously.]     You  base,  unfeeling  villain! 
[Making  for  him.]     It  is  you ! 

STULKELEY  and  WOODHOUSE. 
[Seizing     HEBBLETHWAITE.]        Hebblethwaite ! 
Hebblethwaite ! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Villain! 

PANMURE. 

[Putting  himself  before  LOEING.]  Hi !  I  can't 
have  a  scrap  here !  Hi ! 

STULKELEY  and  WOODHOUSE. 

Hebblethwaite ! 

[From  a  distance  comes  the  prolonged  clang 
of  a  gong.  A  hush  falls  upon  them  all. 
STULKELEY  and  WOODHOUSE  lead  HEB- 
BLETHWAITE, now  unresisting,  to  the 
chair  by  the  writing-table  and  seat  him 
there,  while  LOSING  drops  into  the  chair 
by  the  oblong  table.  As  the  sound  of  the 
gong  ceases,  PANMURE  mops  his  brow 
again,  pulls  down  his  waistcoat,  and  ad- 
justs his  neck-tie. 

PANMURE. 

[Solemnly.]  Call  it  a  draw,  boys.  Collect  your- 
selves. [Smoothing  his  hair.]  Put  your  hair 
straight.  [HEBBLETHWAITE  meekly  suffers  STUL- 
KELEY and  WOODHOUSE  to  put  him  in  order.  LOR- 
ING  experiences  some  difficulty  in  finding  his  head.] 
Good  boys;  good  boys.  [Giving  a  twist  to  his  mous- 
tache.] Bind  yourselves  over  to  keep  the  peace,  or — 


204  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

[taking  a  peep  at  the  manuscript  in  his  breast- 
pocket] or  you'll  unnerve  me.  Now  then !  Y're 
ready  ? 

[STULKELEY  and  WOODHOUSE  lift  HEB- 
BLETHWAITE  out  of  his  chair.  PAN- 
MURE  is  performing  the  same  office  for 
LORING  when  LORING  shakes  him  off 
and  advances  to  HEBBLETHWAITE 
threateningly. 

LORING. 

How  dare  you !    How  dare  you !    How  dare  you  ! 
[The  hubbub  is  renewed  and  again  it  is  nec- 
essary to  separate  HEBBLETHWAITE  and 
LORING. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[To  LORING.]     You  villain!    You  heartless  vil- 
lain! 

STULKELEY. 
Hebblethwaite ! 

WOODHOUSE. 
Loring ! 

PANMURE. 
No  scrap  here !    Hi ! 

LORING. 

If  he  wasn't  an  elderly  man ! 

STULKELEY. 

[To  HEBBLETHWAITE.]     Come  with  me,  Hebble- 
thwaite. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Heartless  villain ! 

PANMURE, 
Hi! 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  205 

LORING. 

How  dare  he ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

Panmure,  catch  hold  of  Loring. 

[Ultimately  a  procession  is  formed.  STUL- 
KELEY  prepares  to  escort  HKBBLE- 
THWAITE,  WOODHOUSE  protecting  their 
rear.  PANMURE  guards  LORING. 

PANMURE. 

Now,  then,  boys,  once  again!  I  say,  Stulkeley, 
can't  you  tidy  your  man's  head?  Simple  thing,  I 
should  ha'  thought.  Lord,  look  at  Hugie's  collar! 
Y're  ready  ?  I'll  switch  the  lights  off.  One— two- 
three  !  Go ! 

[They  are  moving  to  the  door  on  the  right 
when  the  door  is  pushed  open  and  MRS. 
HEBBLETHWAITE  appears.  Her  face  is 
blotchy  from  weeping  and  her  hair  is 
disarranged.  She  leans  against  the 
door,  exhausted.  DULCIE  is  behind 
her,  white  and  with  a  set  mouth  and 
-flaming  eyes. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[After  a  pause  f  convulsively.}  Tell  me!  This 
suspense  is  killing  me. 

DULCIE. 

Get  along,  aunt.    Don't  stick  in  the  doorway. 
[As  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE  advances,  PAN- 
MURE  retreats  to  the  fireplace  and  STUL- 
KELEY  and   WOODHOUSE   withdraw    to 
the  left. 


206  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[To  HEBBLETHWAITE.]     Alfred  Hebblethwaite ! 

DULCIE. 

[Crossing  swiftly  to  LORING,  leaping  over  the 
train  of  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE'S  dress  on  her  way.] 
Mr.  Loring! 

PANMURE. 
[Raising  his  hands.]     Girls  !    Girls ! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[To  HEBBLETHWAITE.]     Quick! 

DULCIE. 

[To  LORING.]  Open  your  mouth — [observng  that 
it  is  already  wide  open]  or  shut  it.  Speak ! 

PANMURE. 

Don't,  girls,  don't;  there's  good  girls!  [MRS. 
PANMURE  has  entered  hurriedly.]  Here's  Lottums. 
[PANMURE  goes  to  her.]  What  d'ye  think,  Lot- 
tums !  Stulkeley  and  Woodhouse  deny  it. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Faintly.]     D-d-deny  it? 

DULCIE. 
Deny  it ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Piously.]  Dulcie — aunt  Corisande — the  gong 
has  sounded.  Let  there  be  a  truce. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  207 

PANMURE. 

[At  the  door  on  the  right.]  Yes,  yes;  a  truce.  A 
truce,  b' George ! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE  and  DULCIE. 
[To    STULKELEY,    ivlio    comes    forward.]      Mr. 

Stulkeley ? 

STULKELEY. 

[Standing  between  DULCIE  and  HEBBLE- 
THWAITE.] My  dear  Mrs.  Hebblethwaite — my  dear 
Miss  Anstice 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[To  STULKELEY.]     Is  it  so? 
DULCIE. 
[To  STULKELEY.]     You  deny  it? 

STULKELEY. 

[Drawing  himself  up.]  Oh,  certainly.  [TFi£/£  a 
stately  bow.]  We  deny  it. 

.[MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE  sinks  into  the  chair 
by  the  oblong  table  as  MRS.  PANMURE 
goes  to  STULKELEY  penitently. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

My  dear  Mr.  Stulkeley ! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Bending  over  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE,  thickly.] 
Corry — Corry 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Hush,  uncle! 


208  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

DULCIE. 

[Laughing  harshly.]     Ha,  ha,  ha ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Hush,  Dulcie !    We  will  resume  this  by-and-by. 

LORING. 

[TF/io  has  dropped  into  the  chair  by  the  writing- 
table — to  DULCIE.]  Ask  my  mother  what  sort  o' 
life  I've  always  led.  Ask  her ! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[To  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE.]  Corry — Corry,  old 
lady 

LORING. 

[To  DULCIE.]     Ask  my  sister  Edith 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Hush!    Oh,  hush! 

•;  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[To  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE.]  Corry,  it  must  be 
that  young  man  Loring ;  it  must  be  he, 

LORING. 
[Leaping  to  his  feet.]    Ah! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
There's  no  one  else 

LORING. 
How  dare  you ! 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  209 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[In  distress.]     Oh!    Oh!    Oh! 

LORING. 

[Trying  to  get  at  HEBBLETHWAITE.]     How  dare 
you! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Shaking  his  fist  at  LORING.]     You  selfish,  cold- 
blooded villain ! 

PANMURE. 
Hi !    No  scrap  in  the  presence  of  ladies ! 

STULKELEY. 

[To     HEBBLETHWAITE.]        Be     quiet,     Hebble- 
thwaite ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Uncle  Alfred ! 

LORING. 
[In  the  grip  of  DULCIE.]     How  dare  he ! 

STULKELEY. 

[To  LORING.]     Mr.  Loring! 
DULCIE. 
[To  LORING.]     Heel  up! 

PANMURE. 
This  won't  do  for  me  !    Hi ! 

LORING. 

[Shouting.]      Ask    my    mother— ask    my    sister 
Bdie ! 


210  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

DULCIE. 

[Thrusting  LORING  lack  into  his  chair.]  Heel, 
I  say ! 

[Again  the  clang  of  the  gong  is  heard  and 
again  silence  falls  upon  the  assembly. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[As  the  sound  dies  out.]  The  servants  are  wait- 
ing. [Wringing  her  hands.]  Oh,  dear;  oh,  dear! 
[Looking  round  beseechingly.]  Come,  everybody. 

PANMURE. 

[Opening  the  door  on  the  right,  softly.]  Tidy 
your  heads,  boys. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[To  STULKELEY.]     Shall  we  lead  the  way? 

[MRS.  PANMURE  and  STULKELEY  are  mov- 
ing towards  the  door  when  MRS.  HEB- 

BLETHWAITE  rises. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[To  MRS.  PANMURE.]    No,  Lottie ! 
MRS.  PANMURE. 

Auntie ! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

The  servants  can  wait;  it  won't  hurt  them.  I 
insist — I  insist  upon  Miss  Quarendon  being  brought 
down  from  her  room  and  being  made  to  confront  my 
husband  and  these  gentlemen. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

No,  no ;  not  now. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PAN  MURE  211 

STULKELEY. 
[Anxiously.}     Not  now;  not  now. 

PANMURE. 
Not  now ! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Resolutely.}     Now;  before  we  go  into  prayers. 

DULCIE. 
I  agree.    Quite  right,  aunt ! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Pll  fetch  her  myself.     [Going  to  the  door.]     If  I 
have  to  use  main  force — 

DULCIE. 

[Running  to  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE.]     Pll  help 
you. 

PANMURE. 

[In  the  doorway.]     Here !    "Who's  master  in  this 
house ! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Move  away,  St.  John. 

DULCIE. 

Don't  be  a  fool,  St.  John. 

PANMURE. 
Lottie ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

\Going  to  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE  and  DULCIE. 
Dulcie— aunt  Corisande 


212  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

PANMURE. 

[To  STULKELEY,  who  is  engaged  in  parting  LOR- 
ING  and  HEBBLETHWAITE,  between  whom  a  violent 
altercation  has  again  broken  out.]  Stulkeley! 

[WOODHOUSE  has  been  standing  by  the  set- 
tee, following  events  with  varying  sensa- 
tions. At  this  juncture }  with  a  wild  look 
but  with  an  air  of  determination,  he 
pushes  HEBBLETHWAITE  aside,  and,  com- 
ing between  him  and  STULKELEY,  ad- 
vances to  the  middle  of  the  room. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[In  a  strange  voice.]  Excuse  me.  [Louder.] 
Mrs.  Panmure !  [Everybody  turns  to  him,  sur- 
prised.] The — ah — the  time  has  arrived  perhaps 
when — ah — when  it  is  due  to  all  parties  that — 
ah — that  this  mystery  should  be  cleared  up. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE  and  DULCIE. 

Perhaps ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Mr.  Woodhouse? 

STULKELEY. 

My  dear  Talbot ! 

HEBBLETHWAITE  and  LORINQ. 

What ? 

PANMURE. 

[Startled.]     Hey? 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Digging  his  nails  into  his  palms.]     I — ah — have 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  213 

an    announcement — ah — an    interesting    announce- 
ment to  make  you. 

[There  is  a  low  murmur  of  inquiry  as  PAN- 
MURE,  his  eyes  starting  from  his  head, 
comes  through  the  group  of  women. 

PANMURE. 
[To  WOODHOUSE.]     What'r  yer  talking  about ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Restraining  him.]     St.  John  dear ! 
MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Advancing  to  the  further  side  of  the  oblong 
table.]  Hold  your  tongue,  St.  John. 

DULCIE. 

[To  PANMURE.]     Shut  up! 
PANMURE. 

[In  agony.]  What's  he  talking  about!  The 
gong's  gone  twice !  I  won't  have  the  rules  of  my 
house  broken.  [ DULCIE  holds  him  by  his  coat!] 
Stulkeley ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Breathing  irregularly.]  My  dear  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Panmure — oh,  my  dear  friends — I — I  deplore — I 
deplore  exceedingly  the  confusion  and  derange- 
ment I  have  brought  upon  this  establishment  by 
my  misbehaviour  towards  a  most  admirable  and 
circumspect  young  lady. 

MR.  and  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE  and  LORING. 

Oh-h-h-h ! 

DULCIE. 

He! 


214  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Mr.  Woodhouse! 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Steeling  himself  for  a  final  effort  and  speaking 
in  high,  clear  tones.}  I — /  am  the  man. 

[There  is  a  general,  half-suppressed  excla- 
mation. PANMURE  is  thunderstruck . 

STULKELEY. 
[Close  to  WOODHOUSE.]     You! 

WOODHOUSE. 

[  Giving  STULKELEY  a  look  of  mingled  cunning 
and  triumph.]  Yes,  Reggie,  Pve  deceived  you.  / 
did  it. 

[STULKELEY  returns  the  look  understand- 
ingly  as  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE  totters 
across  to  HEBBLETHWAITE  and  falls 
upon  his  neck. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Bursting  into  tears.]     Alfred -! 

STULKELEY. 

[To  MRS.  PANMURE.]  My  dear  Mrs  Pan- 
mure !  [To  WOODHOUSE.]  Talbot ! 

WOODHOUSE. 
[At  the  point  of  collapse.]     Dear  chap? 

STULKELEY. 

Please  don't  address  me  familiarly.  [Loftily.]  I 
am  disgusted  with  you — dis-gusted.  [Going  to 
MRS.  PANMURE.]  Mrs.  Panmure 


PRESERVING  MR.  PAN  MURE  215 

MIJS.  PANMURE. 

[Embracing  DULCIE.]  Oh,  Dulcie,  darling! 
[Going  to  the  HEBBLETHWAITES.]  Auntie — uncle 
Alfred —  — !  [Shaking  hands  with  LORING.  Mr. 
Loring ! 

PANMURE. 

[Recovering  himself  and  shaking  hands  warmly 
with  DULCIE.]  Sure  all  along  it  wasn't  Hughie. 
[Finding  STULKELEY  by  his  side.]  And  what  the 
devil  do  you  mean,  sir  by  introducing  this  class  o' 
person  into  my  house — a  gentleman's  house, 
b'George !  What  the— 

[STULKELEY  grasps  the  lapel  of  PANMURE'S 
coat  wrathf  ully  as  DULCIE  advances  to 
WOODHOUSE. 

DULCIE. 

[To  WOODHOUSE.]  You — you  vicious,  dissolute 
little  creature!  [ WOODHOUSE  hangs  his  head.] 

You — you   deserve   to   be [Becoming   conscious 

that  LORING,   with   outstretched  arms,  is  beaming 
upon  her.]     Well,  what's  the  matter  with  you? 

LORING. 
[Fatuously.]     Dulce ! 

DULCIE. 

[Leaving  WOODHOUSE  and  going  to  LORING— 
with  deep  contempt.]  Yes,  I  might  have  known  you 
haven't  the. pluck  to  have  done  it. 

LORING. 
[Staggered.]     Dulce! 

[ DULCIE  sweeps  away  to  the  settee,  folloived 
*  by  LORING,  as  MRS.   HEBBLETHWAITE. 


216  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

accompanied  by  HEBBLETHWAITE,  bears 
down  upon  WOODHOUSE. 

PANMURE. 

[Expostulating  with  STULKELEY,  .  under  his 
breath.]  Don't;  don't!  Can't  help  myself! 

STULKELEY. 

[Releasing  him  and  pacing  the  room  on  the 
right.]  Pah! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[To  WOODHOUSE.]     Mr.  Woodhouse 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Unsteadily.]     Dear  lady? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Don't  "  dear  lady  "  me !  Oh,  if  I  were  a  man  and 
could  wield  a  horse-whip !  [Going  to  STUL- 
KELEY.] I  compliment  you  upon  your  associates, 
Mr.  Stulkeley ! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Touching  WOODHOUSE  on  the  shoulder.]  I  can 
wield  a  horse-whip,  Mr.  Woodhouse,  and  I  invite  you 
to  meet  me  at  the  stables  to-morrow  morning.  What 
hour'll  suit  you? 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Feebly.]     Any  hour  mos'  convenient 

PANMURE. 

[Who  has  advanced  to  WOODHOUSE.]  No,  no, 
Alfred;  leave  him  to  me.  [To  WOODHOUSE.] 
Hound ! 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  217 

HEBBLETH  WAITE. 

Hound!  That's  better!  Kick  him,  St.  John; 
you  kick  him !  [  Going  to  STULKELEY  and  MRS. 
HEBBLETHWAITE.]  Ton  my  soul,  Stulkeley ! 

PANMURE. 

[To  WOODHOUSE.]  Hound!  [In  a  whisper.] 
Good  boy !  [ Aloud.]  Hound ! 

LORING. 

[Advancing  to  WOODHOUSE,  -followed  by  DULCIE.] 
No  pluck!  No  pluck,  haven't  I!  [To  WOOD- 
HOUSE.]  Woodhouse,  my  engagement  with  you  in 
London — music-hall — reg'lar  night  of  it — it's  off. 
D'ye  hear?  Off! 

PANMURE. 
[To  WOODHOUSE.]    Hound! 

LORING. 

[Glancing  at  DULCIE.]  No  pluck!  [Slapping 
WOODHOUSE  on  the  cheek.]  Heugh!  [Slapping 
him  upon  the  other  cheek.]  Heugh ! 

DULCIE. 
[Seizing  LORING'S  arm.]     Hughie ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Coming  forward  and  placing  herself  between 
LORING  and  WOODHOUSE^  indignantly.]  Mr.  Lor- 
ing!  [To  PANMURE.]  St.  John,  desist!  [PAN- 
MURE  retreats  to  the  fireplace.]  Oh,  I'm  ashamed  of 
you  all ! 


218  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Advancing.]     Ashamed! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[Going  to  her.]     Yes,  aunt  Corisande,  ashamed. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Really ! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Joining  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE.]     Hoity,  toity! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Pointing  to  WOODHOUSE,  who  presents  a  most 
abject  appearance.]  Don't  you  think  he  is  suf- 
ficiently punished  without  being  reviled  for  his  mis- 
deeds—  [to  LoRiNGj'and  struck? 

LORING. 

[Sulkily.]     No,  I  don't. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[To  MRS.  PANMURE.]  A  thorough  change  of 
tune  on  your  part,  Lottie ! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Treacherous  little  coward ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

Coward !  To  abase  himself  before  us  voluntarily 
when  he  might  have  escaped  detection !  Yes,  I  have 
changed  my  tune,  auntie,  because  I  ask  myself  who, 
after  all,  has  displayed  the  greater  courage — -he  or 


PRESERVING  MR.  PAN  MURE  219 

ourselves?      [Gazing  at   WOODHOUSE   with   melting 

eyes.]     Mr.  Wood)  10 use [There  is  a  murmur  of 

disapproval,  checked  by  the  sound  of  organ-music  in 
the  distance.]  Hus-s-s-sh !  [Listening  raptur- 
ously.] Caroline  is  at  the  organ.  [To  WOOD- 
HOUSE.]  Mr.  Woodhouse 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Snivelling.]     Y-y-yes? 

MBS.  PANMURE. 
Face  me.     [He  obeys  her.]     You  repent? 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Nodding.]     H'm. 

[With  an  expression  of  beatitude,  she  unpins 
the  badge  at  her  breast  and  attaches  it  to 
WOODHOUSE'S  coat. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[As  she  does  so.]  You  shall  see  Mr.  Pruyn  in  the 
morning.  [He  squints  down  at  the  badge  and  his 
jaw  drops.  Heaving  a  sigh  of  satisfaction,  she  gives 
him  her  arm.]  Come ;  we  will  go  together. 

[STULKELEY  stands  at  the  door  as  they  pass 
out.  He  follows,  erect,  with  MR.  and 
MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE;  and  they  are 
followed  by  DULCIE  and  LORING  and, 
last,  by  PANMURE.  When  PANMURE 
reaches  the  door,  he  halts  and,  turning 
sharply,  speeds  back  to  the  writing- 
table.  There,  unlocking  a  drawer,  he 
takes  out  a  spirit- flask,  puts  it  to  his 
lips,  and  drains  its  contents.  While  he 


220  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

is  thus  fortifying  himself,  JOSEPHA 
opens  the  door  of  the  cabinet — where 
she  has  switched  off  the  light — 
and  peeps  out  cautiously.  Then  she 
steps  into  the  room,  carrying  her  dress, 
shoes,  and  a  little  white  bundle.  Closing 
the  door  noiselessly,  she  stands  contem- 
plating PANMURE.  lie  replaces  the 
flask,  locks  the  drawer,  and,  with  trem- 
bling hands,  produces  his  manuscript; 
upon  which,  uttering  a  low,  gurgling 
cry,  she  drops  her  dress,  shoes,  and 
bundle,  and,  before  he  is  aware  of  her 
presence,  makes  a  spring  at  him  and 
snatches  the  manuscript  from  him.  He 
attempts  to  regain  it,  but  she  shoves  him 
away,  tears  it  into  strips  and  throws 
them  on  to  the  fire.  Then  she  points 
sternly  to  the  door  and,  with  a  wail  of 
despair,  and  holding  his  head,  lie  totters 
after  the  others. 

END  OF  THE  THIRD  ACT. 


THE  FOUETH  ACT 

The  scene  is  a  drawing-room,  tastefully  decorated 
and  furnished.  In  the  wall  at  the  back,  on  the 
left,  a  door  opens  into  the  room  from  a  landing, 
and  on  the  right  of  this  door  there  are  folding 
doors,  closed,  suggesting  that  there  is  'a  room 
beyond.  The  folding  doors  are  in  three  leaves 
and  there  is  a  key  in  the  lock  of  the  middle  leaf. 

The  fireplace,  where  a  fire  is  burning,  tx  in 
the  right-hand  wall,  and  opposite  the  fire-place, 
against  the  left-hand  wall,  there  is  a  console- 
table  with  a  lofty  mirror  above  it. 

An  arm-chair  stands  on  either  side  of  the 
fireplace;  facing  the  fireplace  there  is  a  settee; 
at  the  back  of  the  settee  are  a  small  writing- 
table  and  a  chair;  and  by  -the  side  of  the  writ- 
ing-table there  is  a  fauteuil-stool. 

On  the  left,  standing  out  in  the  room,  there 
is  another  settee.  On  its  right  are  a  table  and 
an  arm-chair,  on  its  left  two  more  arm-chairs. 
A  piece  af  statuary  is  in  the  right-hand  corner 
of  the  room,  and  other  articles  of  furniture- 
cabinets,  "  occasional  "  chairs,  jardinieres,  etc., 
etc. — occupy  spaces  against  the  walls. 

It  is  daylight. 

[Miss  STULKELEY,  a  composed,  firm-looking 
lady  of  forty- five  is  seated  at  the  writing- 
table,  sealing  an  envelope.  Presently 

221 


222  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

STULKELEY  enters  at  the  door  on  the 
left.  He  is  wearing  an  orchid  in  his  coat 
and  his  general  appearance  is  almost 
dandified,  but  he  has  a  troubled  air 
nevertheless. 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
[Glancing  at  him  over  his  shoulder.]     Ah! 

STULKELEY. 

[Closing  the  door.}     Good-morning,  Joan.     [Ad- 
vancing.]    Busy? 

Miss  STULKELEY." 

Answering  a  few  invitations.  [Collecting  her 
letters.]  I've  done. 

STULKELEY. 

.[Standing  at  the  further  side  of  the  writing -table, 
with  a  show  of  indifference.]  Where — where  is  our 
little  friend  this  morning  ? 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

Josepha  ?  She  has  run  round  to  Sloane  Street  for 
me,  to  my  glove-shop. 

STULKELEY. 
Alone? 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
No. 

STULKELEY. 

[Smothering  an  exclamation]     D-a-a-a ! 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
[Raising  her  eyebrows.}     Reginald! 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  223 

STULKELEY. 

[Controlling  himself  and  speaking  with  icy  calm- 
ness.} You  mean,  Talbot  is  with  her? 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

I  was  giving  her  my  instructions  when  Talbot 
came  into  the  room  and  said  that,  as  he  had  finished 
with  you 

STULKELEY. 

[Incisively.}  He  has  not  finished  with  me.  [Go- 
ing to  the  fireplace.}  At  any  rate,  I  have  not 
finished  with  him.  There  is  still  a  considerable 
amount  of  work  lying  on  my  table  downstairs. 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
I  am  merely  telling  you  what  he  said. 

STULKELEY. 

[Poking  the  fire.}  He  has  been  neglecting  his 
duties  shamefully  during  the  past  week — ever  since 
that  disagreeable  incident  at  the  Panmures',  in  fact, 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
[Rising }  her  letters  in  her  hand.}     Indeed? 

STULKELEY. 

[Dropping  the  poker  with  a  clatter  and  turning  to 
her.]  The  proposal  that  he  should  escort  Miss 
Quarendon  to  Sloane  Street  didn't  proceed  from  her, 
I  assume? 


224  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

[Laying  her  letters  upon  the  table  on  the  left.] 
From  him. 

STULKELEY. 

Precisely!  [Miss  STULKELEY  seats  herself 
upon  the  settee  on  the  left.}  My  dear  Joan,  the  airs 
of  proprietorship  he  adopts  towards  this  unfortunate 
young  lady  are  insufferable. 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
It  doesn't  appear  to  weigh  on  her  spirits. 

STULKELEY. 

Nothing  weighs  on  her  spirits  for  any  length  of 
time.  [Leaving  the  fireplace,  enthusiastically.] 
Her  spirits  are  proof  even  against  what  I  can  only 
describe  as  persecution. 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
Yes,  she  has  a  buoyant  disposition. 

STULKELEY. 

Which  aggravates  rather  than  excuses  the  offen- 
siveness  of  Talbot's  attitude.  It's  monstrous. 
[Coming  to  her.]  Because — solely  to  gain  her  good 
graces ! — he  puts  Miss  Quarendon  under  a  trifling 
obligation  to  him  by  taking  Mr.  Panmure's  disgrace- 
ful conduct  upon  himself,  he  treats  her  as  if  she  were 
his  property — his  pet-dog.  I  almost  expect  to  hear 
him  whistling  for  her. 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
She  whistles  for  him  occasionally. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  225 

STULKELEY. 

She  whistles  for  everybody;  a  charming  habit. 
[Walking  about.}  Ah,  if  I  could  invent  a  pretext 
for  getting  hold  of  his  latch-key ! 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
His  latch-key? 

STULKELEY. 

The  key  of  this  house — my  house.  We  are  never 
free  of  him  now.  I  wonder  he  troubles  to  keep  on 
his  lodgings. 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

It  would  annoy  our  servants  terribly,  to  have  to 
open  the  front-door  to  Talbot  fifty  times  a  <i.iy. 

STULKELEY. 

That  is  my  object.  They  would  show  him  that 
they  resented  it. 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

They  would  show  us  that  they  resented  it.  [In  a 
level  voice.}  Reginald 

STULKELEY. 
[Returning  to  her.]     Eh? 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

[Looking  up  at  him.]  The  truth  is,  you  are  en- 
vious of  Talbot. 

STULKELEY. 
Envious  ? 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
Jealous. 


226  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

STULKELEY. 
J-jealous ! 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
Mortally  jealous.    And  shall  I  tell  you  why? 

STULKELEY. 

[Consulting  his  watch,  uncomfortably.]  Perhaps 
I  ought  not  to  have  started  this  topic  at  a  moment  of 
extreme  pressure. 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

You  are  jealous  of  Talbot  because  you  are  in  love 
with  the  girl  yourself.  [He  makes  a  movement.] 
In  love.  Everything  supports  me.  The  radical 
change  in  you ! 

STULKELEY. 
[Startled.]     Radical? 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

I  am  not  speaking  politically.  The  alteration  in 
your  style  of  dressing — the  flower  in  your  button- 
hole— your  demeanour  in  her  presence!  [Rising.] 
And  it  is  having  a  bad  effect  on  you. 

STULKELEY. 
In  what  way,  pray  ? 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

[Moving  to  the  fireplace.]  Your  speech  last  night 
at  the  Seventy  Club — tame  and  unconvincing. 

STULKELEY. 
The  newspapers  report  me  most  inadequately. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  227 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
Their  circulation  has  to  be  considered. 

STULKELEY. 
[Biting  his  nails.]     I  made  a  hit  again  with  cocoa. 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

That  cocoa  of  yours  seems  always  to  be  simmering 
on  the  hob. 

STULKELEY. 

[Sitting  in  tlie  chair  by  the  table  on  the  left  and 
throwing  one  leg  over  the  other.]  Upon  my  word, 
Joan 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
[Facing  him.]     Reginald,,  acknowledge  it. 

STULKELEY. 
[Irritably.]     Acknowledge  what? 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
Your  love  for  Josepha. 

STULKELEY. 

[With  a  wave  of  the  hand.]  It  is  impossible  for 
anybody  to  be  in  her  society 


Miss  STULKELEY. 

[Approaching  him.]  Let  us  avoid  generalities. 
[At  his  side.]  I  will  be  frank  with  you.  From  a 
commonsense  point  of  view,  your  marrying  Mi-> 


228  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

Quarendon  would  be  open  to  every  objection.    [Soft- 
ening.]     But,   on   the  other  hand,   she's   a  sweet 

thing 

STULKELEY. 
[Eagerly.]     You  like  her? 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

[Forgetfully.]     It  is  impossible  for  any  one  to  be 
in  her  society 

STULKELEY. 
Tsch !    Generalities ! 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
Bless  me,  yes !    Very  well,  then,  I — I  admit 

STULKELEY. 

You  admit ? 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

She  is  one  of  the  few  among  my  sex  for  whom  I 
would  willingly  move  my  bedroom  a  floor  higher. 

STULKELEY. 

[Taking  Tier  hand.]     My  dear  Joan ! 
Miss  STULKELEY. 

[Losing  her  composure.]     Oh,  Reginald ! 

STULKELEY: 

This  is  what  I  have  been  waiting  for — a  revelation 
of  your  feeling  towards  Josepha ! 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
I — I  confess 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  22$ 

STULKELEY. 

Confess ? 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
To  a  dread  I  have  had  of  late  years — a  terror 

STULKELEY. 
Terror? 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

That  a  time  might  come  when  you  would  place  a 
woman  in  authority  in  this  house — a  middle-aged, 
unpliable  creature ! 

STULKELEY. 

I  understand.     But  Josepha ! 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
Exactly.    Listen  to  me.    You  value  my  advice  ? 

STULKELEY. 
Value  it ! 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

Bring  matters  to  a  head  at  once,  and  stop  Talbot 
from  trampling  over  you. 

STULKELEY. 

[In  a  flutter.]  At  once;  at  once.  [Anxiously.} 
This  paltry  service  he  has  rendered  her!  Who 
knows  to  what  extent  it  has  captured  her  imagi- 
nation, eh? 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
,  There's  the  great  danger ! 


230  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

STULKELEY. 
[Depressed.]     Oh,  my  dear  Joan ! 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

[Listening.}  Sssh !  [STULKELEY  jumps  up. 
Miss  STULKELEY  touches  his  arm  significantly  and 
drops  her  voice  to  a  whisper.']  I'll  take  my  exercise 
alone  this  morning. 

[She  moves  to  the  fireplace  as  JOSKPTIA  en- 
ters breathlessly,  still  dressed  for  wulk- 
ing,  followed  by  WOODHOUSE.  WOOD- 
HOUSE,  who  15  wearing  no  overcoat,  also 
has  a  flower  in  his  button-hole  and  is  ag- 
gressively self-satisfied  and  patronising 
in  his  bearing.  By  an  accident,  liis  keys 
which  he  carries  at  the  end  of  a  chain, 
are  hanging  at  his  side. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Running  to  Miss  STULKELEY.]  Sorry  to  have 
been  so  long,  dearest.  It's  Madame  Deniseau's 
fault;  she  is  such  a  chatterbox.  Go  and  put  your 
things  on.  There's  a  sun  in  the  sky  that  belongs  to 
last  summer.  [To  WOODHOUSE.]  Isn't  there? 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Advancing.}  Belongs  to  last  summer!  Ha,  ha! 
Capital !  Ha,  ha ! 

JOSEPHA. 

[To  Miss  STULKELEY.]  Make  haste!  I'll  help 
you  to  tie  your  veil. 

WOODHOUSE. 
[To  Miss  STULKELEY.]     Yes,  look  sharp,  Joan; 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  231 

I'll  trot  you  both  into  the  Park.  [Involuntarily, 
STULKELEY  gives  a  short,  ironical  laugh.  As  he 
does  so,  he  catches  sight  of  WOODHOUSE^S  keys  and 
his  eyes  gleam.  WOODHOUSE  turns  to  him.]  Eh? 

STULKELEY. 
N-nothing. 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Turning  from  him.]     Thought  you  spoke. 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

[To  JOSEPH  A.]  Josepha,  I  am  going  out  by  my- 
self this  morning. 

JOSEPHA. 
By  yourself ! 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

Yes ;  Pve  a  particular  reason  for  desiring  you  to 
remain  indoors. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Wonderingly.]  Particular  reason!  What  rea- 
son? 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

No  questions.  [Patting  her  cloak  caressingly.]  I 
sha'n't  be  more  than  an  hour. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[To  Miss  STULKELEY.]  Oh,  I'll  amuse  her  while 
you're  gone.  [Miss  STULKELEY  and  JOSEPHA  move 
to  the  door,  the  former  pausing  to  pick  up  her  let- 
ters. STULKELEY  has  seated  himself  upon  the  settee 
on  the  left  and  is  trying  to  withstand  the  temptation 
to  abstract  the  latch-key  from  WOODHOUSE'S  key- 


232  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

ring.     WOODHOUSE,   feeling  a   tug,   turns   to  him 
again.}     What  are  you  up  to,  my  dear  chap? 

STULKELEY. 

[Offering  him  the  bunch  of  keys.]  Your  keys  are 
dangling,  Talbot. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Pocketing  his  keys,  suspiciously.]  Oh — thank 
you.  [Crossing  to  the  right.]  Er — Joan. 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
[Who  is  leaving  the  room  with  JOSEPHA.]     Yes? 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Importantly.]     Give  me  a  minute,  will  you? 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

[To  JOSEPHA.]  Excuse  me,  dear.  [In  a  lower 
tone.]  Come  down  when  you've  taken  off  your  hat 
and  coat. 

[Wt//t  a  nod}  JOSEPHA  withdraws  and  Miss 
STULKELEY  closes  the  door. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[To  STULKELEY.]  Stay  where  you  are,  Reggie. 
[STULKELEY  looks  up  and  glares.]  Sit  down,  my, 
dear  Joan. 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

[Coldly.]  You  heard  me  say  I  am  going  out, 
Talbot. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[His  back  to  the  fire  and  his  coat-tails  over  his 
arms.]  Yes,  that's  why  I  think  it  an  excellent  op- 


PRESERl/ING  MR.  PANMURE  233 

portunity  to  have  this  little  jaw  with  you.    As  you 
are  going  out,  leaving  Miss  Quarendon  at  home 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

What  has  Miss  Quarendon ? 

WOODHOUSE. 

Oh,  please,  dear  lady,  suffer  me  to  approach  this 
matter  in  my  own  way.  [Miss  STULKELEY  sits  ab- 
ruptly in  the  chair  by  the  table  on  the  left]  Thank 
you.  Now,  I  want  to  do  everything,  you  know,  in 
a  correct  and  formal  manner.  Miss  Quarendon  has 
no  parents,  or  I  should  address  myself  to  them. 
A  week  or  so  ago  I  should  have  applied  to  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Panmure  for  permission — 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
Permission ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

To  propose  marriage  to  Miss  Quarendon.  [STUL- 
KELEY and  Miss  STULKELEY  stiffen  themselves  sud- 
denly.] To-day  that  is,  on  the  face  of  it,  unneces- 
sary. [Opening  his  arms.]  So  what  is  my  course 
of  procedure  ? 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

Your — course  of ? 

WOODHOUSE. 

Why,  regarding  you  both  as  being,  in  a  sense,  the 
dear  child's  guardians,  I  come  to  you.  You  have 
given  her  the  protection  of  your  friendship  and  the 
shelter  of  your  very  comfortable  establishment. 
[Advancing.]  And,  by-the-by,  while  I  am  about  it, 
let  me  express  my  grateful  appreciation  of  your 


234  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

kindness  to  Josepha — a  kindness  which,  naturally, 
I  feel  all  the  more  deeply— 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
[Steadily.]     Talbot— 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Going  to  her.]     Eh? 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
Josepha — Josepha  doesn't  suspect ? 

WOODHOUSE. 
Suspect  ? 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
That  you  have  an  affection  for  her  ? 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Shrugging  his  shoulders  complacently.]     What 
she  suspects 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
But  you  haven't  breathed  a  syllable ? 

WOODHOUSE. 

My  dear  Joan,  I've  told  you,  I  wish  to  conduct 
this  affair  with  the  utmost  formality. 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

My  motive  for  asking  is — that  Reginald — [look- 
ing at  STULKELEY]  Reginald— 

WOODHOUSE. 
[In  a  tone  of  polite  inquiry.]     Reginald ? 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  235 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
[To  WOODHOUSE.]     My  dear  brother 

STULKELEY. 
[Throatily.]     Yes,  I— I  myself— 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
[Pointing  to  STULKELEY.]     He — 

WOODHOUSE. 

[With  an  exaggerated  air  of  incredulousness.] 
Oh,  no,  not  really!  [STULKELEY  and  Miss  STULK- 
ELEY rise  simultaneously.]  No,  no;  do  let's  be 

serious. 

i 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
[Walking  away  to  the  back.]     Serious! 

STULKELEY. 
[Crossing  to  the  fireplace.]     Serious! 

WOODHOUSE, 

[On  the  left.]  Oh,  my  dear  Reggie — oh,  my 
dear  Joan — this  is  grotesque ! 

STULKELEY. 
Grotesque ! 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

[Coming  to  WOODHOUSE.]  So  grotesque  is  it  that 
I  have  expressly  arranged  to  leave  Josepha  at  home 
this  morning  in  order  that  Reginald  may  declare 
himself. 


236  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

WOODHOUSE. 

Grotesque ! 

Miss  STULKBLEY. 

[Formidably.]  Don't  you  use  that  word  again. 
Talbot ;  I  won't  have  it. 

WOODHOUSE. 

Gro — [meeting  her  eye]  gro — !  Gro — ridicu- 
lous! 

STULKELEY. 

[Joining  Miss  STULKELEY.]  Anyhow,  it  is  my 
intention  to  speak  to  Miss  Quarendon  without  delay. 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
Without  delay. 

WOODHOUSE. 

Oh,  but  I  put  it  to  you — two  mature,  usually  sen- 
sible people — [sitting  upon  the  settee  on  the  left, 
nursing  his  leg]  I  put  it  to  you,  Joan 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
[With  asperity.]     You  needn't. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[To  Miss  STULKELEY.]  I  put  it  to  you.  Sup- 
posing I  were  to  efface  myself,  if  one  could  suppose 
anything  so  wildly  improbable — but  supposing  I 
were  to,  and  Josey  could  be  induced  to  look  fav- 
ourably on  darling  old  Reggie — what  a  calamity ! 

STULKELEY. 
Calamity ! 


PRESERVING  MR.  PAN  MURE  237 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
Nothing  of  the  sort ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

I  abhor  our  vulgar  English  proverbs — I  really 
do — but  May  and  December,  you  know ! 

STULKELEY. 
[Hotly.}     I  beg  your  pardon! 

WOODHOUSE. 
Worse  !    May  and  December  twelvemonth ! 

STULKELEY. 
Talbot,  you're  rude ! 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

\To  WOODHOUSE.]  June  and  October  at  the  out- 
side !  Josepha  is  twenty-seven,  Eeginald  forty-two. 

WOODHOUSE. 

And  then,  apart  from  that,  Reggie  and  this 
dainty  little  fairy!  Oh,  gro — [meeting  Miss 
STULKELEY' s  eye  again]  gro — !  Gro — absurd! 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

[Impatiently.]  Well,  Miss  Quarendon  may  be 
down  at  any  moment 


238  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

WOODHOUSE. 

True.     [Looking  at  his  watch.]     You  will  be  ab- 
sent for  about  an  hour,  you  say,  Joan  ? 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

Why ? 

WOODHOUSE. 

I  suggest  that  Reggie  accompanies  you — or  that 
he  goes  for  a  stroll  on  his  own  account 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
[To  WOODHOUSE.]     Reginald? 

WOODHOUSE. 
Allowing  me  at  least  twenty  minutes 

STULKELEY. 
[Not  comprehending.]     Twenty  minutes? 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
[To  WOODHOUSE.]     What  for? 

WOODHOUSE. 
For  my  interview  with  Josepha. 

STULKELEY. 
Not  at  all ! 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
What  next ! 

WOODHOUSE. 
Oh,  Reggie  will  come  next. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  239 

STULKELEY. 
[Pacing  the  room  at  the  back.]     Audacious! 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

[To  WOODHOUSE.]  No,  no;  you  will  go  for  a 
stroll,  Talbot,  and  if,  after  that — though  it  is 
scarcely  conceivable — 

STULKELEY. 

[Halting.]  Quite  so;  if,  after  I  have  had  my  in- 
terview with  Miss  Quarendon,  there  remains  the 
faintest  ray  of  hope  for  Talbot — 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Rising,  genuinely  indignant.]  My  dear  Reg- 
gie— ni3r  dear  Joan — you  make  me  blush  for  you; 
you  do,  positively. 

STULKELEY. 
Blush? 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
Blush ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

Blush.  [Crossing  to  the  fireplace.]  To  take  such 
an  unfair  advantage  of  me;  a  relative,  too — a  first 
cousin  !  It's  shabby  to  a  degree ;  it  is,  really. 

STULKELEY  and  Miss  STULKELEY. 

Unfair ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

Distinctly  unfair!  [Facing  them.]  This  is  my 
reward  for  behaving  in  an  honourable,  high-minded 
fashion.  Oh,  it's  lamentable ! 


240  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
I  don't  deny — 

STULKELEY. 
[Resuming  his  walk.]     Neither  of  us  denies 

VvfOODHOUSE. 

You  can't.  You  are  perfectly  well  aware  that  I 
could  have  offered  marriage  to  Miss  Quarendon 
without  paying  you  the  compliment  of  consulting 
you.  This  morning,  for  example,  in  Sloane  Street! 
The  east  side  of  Sloane  Street  is  admirably  adapted 
for  that  kind  o'  thing. 

STULKELEY. 

[Now  on  the  left,  in  front  of  the  settee,  dis- 
turbed.] Joan 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
[Turning  to  him.]     Eh? 

STULKELEY. 

[His  hands  in  his  pockets,  guiltily.]  Talbot's  be- 
haviour has  been  irreproachable,  undoubtedly. 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

[Sharing  STULKELEY'S  uneasiness.}  Oh,  un- 
doubtedty. 

STULKELEY. 

[Rattling  his  money,  feebly.]  If  some  sort  of 
compromise  could  be  arrived  at 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
Compromise  ? 


•   PRESERVING  MR.  PAN  MURE  241 

STULKELEY. 

[Unconsciously  producing  a  piece  of  money  and 
gently  tossing  it  over  in  his  paim.]  Very  little  is 
accomplished  in  these  days  without  compromise. 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

[Grasping  his  arm  and  pointing  to  the  coin.] 
Oh,  but  you  wouldn't ! 

STULKELEY. 

[Hastily  poclceting  the  coin.]  No,  no;  not  with  a 
coin. 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Raising  his  hand.]     Oh,  pot-house!    Pot-house) 

STULKELEY. 

Would  it  be  equally  objectionable  if — ah — it 
Talbot  and  I  were  to  draw  lots ? 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
Lots? 

STULKELEY. 
To  decide  who  shall  be  the  first  to — er 


Miss  STULKELEY. 
[Turning  to  WOODHOUSE.]     Talbot ? 

WOODHOUSE. 
Lots ! 

STULKELEY. 

[Thoughtfully.]     Two  pieces  of  paper  dropped  in- 
to a  vase — a  number  written  upon  each  of  them 


242  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Walking  away  to  the  back  in  disgust.]  Good 
heavens,  a  sweepstake ! 

STULKELEY. 

[To  WOODHOUSE,  violently.]  Confound  it,  man, 
is  there  no  satisfying  you ! 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
[Warmly.]     A  most  generous  concession! 

STULKELEY. 

[Striding  to  the  fireplace  and  taking  up  a  position 
there  firmly.}  Very  well,  then!  I  adhere  to  my — 
and  my  sister's — original  plan. 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

[Sitting  upon  the  settee  on  the  left.}  We  adhere 
to  our  original  plan. 

STULKELEY. 

[To  WOODHOUSE.]  Which  leaves  me  no  alterna- 
tive, my  dear  fellow,  but  to  request  you  to  with- 
draw. 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

[Folding  her  arms.}  To  request  you  to  with- 
draw, Talbot. 

WOODHOUSE. 
Ha !     [At  the  door.}     I  repeat,  I  blush  for  you. 

STULKELEY. 
[With  a  stately  bow.]    I  am  greatly  obliged. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  243 

Miss  STDLKELEY. 
[Bridling.]     We  are  greatly  obliged. 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Opening  the  door.]    Blush  for  you. 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
So  that  you  blush  in  the  street,  Talbot 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Wrathfulhj.]     Ah ! 

[He  goes  out  slamming  the  door.  STULK- 
ELEY advances  to  Miss  STULKELEY  and 
she,  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  rises  and  em- 
ir aces  him. 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
[Kissing  him   on  both  cheeks.]      Reginald — my 

dear  brother ! 

[WOODHOUSE  returns.  Miss  STULKELEY  and 
STULKELEY  separating  hastily,  regard 
him  with  surprise  and  displeasure. 
WOODHOUSE  closes  the  door  and  comes 
forward. 

STULKELEY. 
[To  WOODHOUSE.      W — w— what ? 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
[To  WOODHOUSE.]     Talbot? 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Calmly.]     I  consent. 


244  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

STULKELEY. 

Consent ! 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
You  consent  ? 

WOODHOUSE. 

A  vase — two  pieces  of  paper 

STULKELEY. 
[Disappointed.}     By  all  means. 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
[Frigidly.]     Certainly. 

WOODHOUSE. 
On  one  condition. 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
Condition  ? 

STULKELEY. 

I  am  not  sure  that  Talbot  is  entitled  to  dic- 
tate  

Miss  STULKELEY. 
[To    STULKELEY.]      Wait.      [To    WOODHOUSE. 

May  we  hear ? 

WOODHOUSE. 

Whichever  of  us  first  proposes  to  Miss  Quarendon 
shall  inform  her  that  the  other  intends  to  do  the 
same  thing  immediately  afterwards. 

Mi^s  STULKELEY. 

[Knitting  her  brows.]     Whichever  of  you 

STULKELEY. 
[Also  frowning.]    First  proposes 


PRESERVING  MR.  PAN  MURE  245 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
Shall  inform  Josepha — 

STULKELEY. 
That  the  other- 
Miss  STULKELEY. 
Immediately  afterwards — 

STULKELEY. 
[After  a  short  pause.}     Joan ! 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

[Tapping  her  forehead  with  her  fingers.}  Let  me 
think. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Testily.}  Oh,  my  dear  lady,  can't  you  see  that 
my  proviso  is  as  much  in  Reggie's  interests  as  my 
own? 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
[Shutting  her  eyes.}    Yes,  I  do  see 

STULKELEY. 

[His  hand  to  his  head.}  Now,  how  would  it 
operate  ? 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
At  the  first  glance  it's  rather  complex,  but 

STULKELEY. 
[Again  appealing  to  Miss  STULKELEY.]     Eh — h? 


246  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
[Nodding  slowly.]     Yes — yes,  we — we  agree. 

STULKELEY. 

[Still  extremely  doubtful]  We  agree  unhesitat- 
ingly. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Looking  round  about  him.]     A  vase ?     [He 

fetches  a  vase  which  is  standing  upon  a  cabinet  at  the 
back.  Absently,  STULKELEY  takes  another  vase  from 
the  mantel-piece,  while  Miss  STULKELEY  removes  yet 
another  from  the  console-table,  and  the  three  ad- 
vance and  meet  in  the  middle  of  the  room.]  Oh,  my 
dear  friends,  we  are  not  a  troupe  of  conjurers ! 

STULKELEY. 

[Replacing  his  vase  upon  the  mantelpiece,  net- 
tled.] There  is  no  harm  done,  my  dear  Talbot. 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Putting  back  his  vase,  tartly.]    l$ot  the  slightest. 

STULKELEY. 

[To  Miss  STUKELEY.]  Joan,  two  slips  of  paper. 
[Miss  STUKELEY  deposits  her  vase  upon  the  writing- 
tablef  and,  seating  herself  at  the  table,  tears  two 
slips  from  a  sheet  of  paper  and  prepares  to  write.} 
The  figure  "I"  upon  that;  [Miss  STULKELEY 
writes,  first  upon  one  piece  of  paper,  then  upon  the 
other-,  according  to  his  directions.]  upon  that  the 
figure  "  II." 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  247 

WOODHOUSE. 

[At  the  further  side  of  the  writing-table.]  The 
one  who  draws  Number  One ? 

STULKELEY. 
[Bowing  in  assent.]    Yes. 

WOODHOUSE. 
[To  Miss  STULKELEY.]     Fold  them. 

STULKELEY. 
[As  she  does  so.]     Of  course,  fold  them. 

WOODHOUSE. 
Drop  them  into  the  vase. 

STULKELEY. 

[Resenting  WOODHOUSE' s  tone  of  authority.]  Ob- 
viously. 

[Miss  STULKELEY  drops  tlie  pieces  of  paper 
into  tlie  vase  and  rises.  Carrying  the 
vase,  she  moves  to  the  middle  of  the 
room.  The  men  follow  her. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[To  Miss  STULKELEY.]  Shake  it  up.  [She  gives 
the  vase  a  shake  and,  blinded  and  choked  with  dust, 
coughs  painfully  and  blinks.]  Pardon. 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

[Giving  the  vase  to  WOODHOUSE  and  wiping  her 
eyes.]  Our  neglectful  housemaids ! 


248  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

WOODHOUSE. 

[To  STULKELEY.]     Which  of  us ? 

STULKELEY. 

[Relieving   WOODHOUSE   of   the   vase,    magnani- 
mously.]    You. 

[WOODHOUSE  plunges  his  hand  into  the  vase, 
which  is  narrow-necked  one,  and  is 
unable  to  withdraw  it. 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
[At  his  side.]    Oh,  dear ! 

STULKELEY. 

[Solicitously,  tugging  at  the  vase.]     Oh,  dear;  oh, 
dear! 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Wincing.]     Tsssh! 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

[Pulling  at  WOODHOUSE'S  arm.]     How  unfortu- 
nate! 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Lowering  at  STULKELEY.]     Did  you  guess  this 
would  happen,  Reggie  ? 

STULKELEY. 
On  my  honour,  Talbot ! 

WOODHOUSE. 
The  vase  will  have  to  be  broken. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  249 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
Break  my  vase  !    No ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

My  dear  Joan,  you  don't  think  I  am  going  through 
life  with  this  attached  to  me,  do  you  ?  [  Ultimately , 
with  a  jerk,  he  extricates  his  hand,  his  elbow  hitting 
Miss  STULKELEY,  who  has  turned  away  distractedly, 
between  the  shoulders.]  Pardon.  [Gripping  his 
hand  and  then  examining  it  with  concern.]  Tssh ! 
[Miss  STULKELEY,  thoroughly  upset,  retires  to  the 
back  as  WOODHOUSE  discovers  that  he  has  possessed 
himself  of  one  of  the  pieces  of  paper.]  Tsssh ! 
Tscha!  [Unfolding  the  paper.]  Dash,  and  I've 
drawn  the  wrong  number!  [Crumpling  the  paper 
and  flinging  it  away.]  Tscha!  [Making  for  the 
door.]  Drawn  the  filthy  wrong  number  and  grazed 
my  knuckles  badly !  [As  he  reaches  the  door,  it  is 
opened  and  JOSEPHA  enters.]  Pardon. 

[He  departs,  closing  the  door,  and  JOSEPHA 
goes  to  Miss  STULKELEY. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Wlio  has  taken  off  her  outdoor  things.]  You 
haven't  started  yet,  dearest ! 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
[Passing  JOSEPHA.]    I'm  only  just  at  liberty. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Following  her.]  Mayn't  I  help  you  with  your 
hat? 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

No,  no;  Gillmore  will  attend  to  me.  [Turning  to 
JOSEPHA.]  Stay  here. 


250  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

JOSEPHA. 

[Looking  inta  Miss  STULKELEY'S  face.]  Why,  is 
anything  the  matter? 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

[Glancing  at  STULKELEY,  who  has  moved  across  to 
the  left.]  I — I  fancy  my  brother  Eeginald  has 
something  to  say  to  you. 

JOSEPHA. 
[Alarmed.]     Oh!    What  have  I  done? 

Miss  STULKELEY. 
Shall  I  tell  you? 

JOSEPHA. 
Y-yes. 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

Made  the  house  bright  and  cheerful  for  a  week. 
[Miss   STULKELEY   kisses  JOSEPHA  fondly, 
picks  up  her  letters  again,  and  goes  out. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Looking  from  STULKELEY  to  the  closed  door  and 
from  the  door  to  STULKELEY,  puzzled.]  I — I'm 
afraid  I  must  have  been  up  to  some  naughty  trick 
or  other.  [Advancing  a  step  or  two.]  Have  I? 

[He  turns  to  her,  unconscious  of  the  fact 
that  lie  is  still  holding  the  vase. 

STULKELEY. 
[Nervously.]     Er — Miss  Quarendon 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  251 

JOSEPHA. 

E-eh? 

STULKELEY. 

[Hugging  the  vase  to  his  breast.]  My  sister  is — 
ah — correct  in  her  surmise  that  I — er 

JOSEPHA. 

[Eyeing  the  vase.]  What  are  you  doing  with 
that? 

STULKELEY. 
With  what? 

JOSEPHA. 
[Pointing.]     That  thing. 

STULKELEY. 

Good  gracious!  Thank  you.  [He  is  about  to 
stand  the  vase  upon  the  table  on  the  left  when  he 
reflects,  changes  his  mind,  and  turns  to  her  again. 
She  edges  away  from  him,  open-mouthed.}  No; 
this  will  assist  me  to — ah — to  explain. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Growing  more  and  more  -frightened  by  his  man- 
ner.] T-t-to  explain? 

STULKELEY. 

[Coming  to  her  and  presenting  the  mouth  of  the 
vase  to  her.]  Dip  your  hand  into  it. 

JOSEPHA. 
Dip  my  hand  into  it ! 


252  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

STULKELEY. 

[Gazing   at   her   earnestly.]      Yours   is   a   small 
hand — a  delicately  shaped  hand. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Putting  her  hands  behind  her.]     Oh,  I — I  don't 
know. 

STULKELEY. 

There  is  no  danger  of  your  having  to  go  through 
life  with  this  attached  to  you. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Her  fright  increasing.}     Oh,  M-M-Mr.  Stulke- 
ley ! 

STULKELEY. 
Dip  your  hand  into  it. 

JOSEPHA. 
Aren't  you  well? 

STULKELEY. 
Quite.     [Shaking  the  vase  invitingly.]     Come. 

JOSEPHA. 
W-w-what  for? 

STULKELEY. 
You  will  find  a  slip  of  paper  at  the  bottom. 

JOSEPHA. 
S-s-slip  of  paper  ? 

STULKELEY. 
Insignificant  in  itself,  but  big  with  fate.     [Fear- 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  253 

fully,  she  inserts  her  hand  in  the  vase  and  draws  out 
a  piece  of  paper.]  Unfold  it.  [She  obeys,  with 
trembling  fingers.]  What  is  the  figure  written  on 
it? 

JOSEPHA. 

[Correcting  him.]  Figures.  [Reading.]  "Three 
pounds,  eight,  and  four-pence." 

STULKELEY. 
[His  eyes  bolting.]     Three  pounds — 

JOSEPHA. 

It's  a  bill.  [Showing  it  to  him.]  "  Marshall  and 
Snelgrove." 

STULKELEY. 

Bless  me!  .  How  has  that  got  there?  That's  not 
the  paper  I  mean.  [She  lays  the  bill  on  the  writing- 
table  and,  again  diving  her  hand  into  the  vase,  fishes 
up  another  piece  of  paper.]  That  must  be  it. 

JOSEPHA. 
[Unfolding  it.]     "I."     [Looking  at  him.]     One? 

STULKELEY. 

[Intensely.]  Miss  Quarendon — Josepha — that 
apparently  unimportant  document  gives  me  the 
right  of  taking  precedence  over  my  cousin  Talbot  in 
telling  you  that  it  is  in  your  power  to  make  me — 
[confused]  or  him — to  make  either  of  us — the  hap- 
piest of  men. 

JOSEPHA. 
[Staring  at  him.]     Mr.  Stulkeley! 


254  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

STULKELEY. 

Yes,  Woodhouse  and  I — I  can't  justify  the  pro- 
ceeding, but  it  was  forced  upon  me — Woodhouse 
and  I  have  been  drawing  lots  to  decide  who  should 
be  the  first  to  lay  his  heart  at  your  feet. 

JOSEPHA. 
[Faintly.]     Oh ! 

STULKELEY. 

He,  as  I  have  hinted,  has  drawn  the  wrong  num- 
ber; and  therefore — excuse  me 

[He  breaks  off}  to  get  rid  of  the  vase,  which 
he  replaces  upon  the  console-table,  while 
she,  with  a  woeful  face,  sits  upon  the 
fauteuil-stool. 

JOSEPHA. 
Oh!    Oh! 

STULKELEY. 

[Returning  to  the  middle  of  the  room.]  Josepha, 
I  love  you. 

JOSEPHA. 
[Dropping  her  head  upon  her  hands.]     Oh-h-h-h ! 

STULKELEY. 

[Coming  to  her  and  standing  beside  her.]  I  love 
you  utterly,  entirely,  with  every  faculty  of  my  being. 
Perhaps,  under  an  existing  arrangement,  I  ought  to 
add — for  I  wish  to  be  strictly  impartial — perhaps  I 
ought  to  add  that  it  is  possible  that  my  cousin  loves 
you  in  very  much  the  same  proportion.  But,  as  he 
will  propose  to  you  in  person  shortly  after  I  have 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  255 

finished,  I  beg  you  to  bestow  your  whole  attention, 
for  the  moment,  upon  myself. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Rocking  herself  to  and  fro,  in  a  murmur.]  Oh, 
my;  oh,  my! 

STULKELEY. 

Josepha,  it  is  a  common  failing  with  a  man  who  is 
in  love  to  invest  the  object  of  his  devotion  with  every 
noble  and  gracious  quality ;  and  terrible  in  too  many 
instances  is  the  disenchantment  that  awaits  him. 
In  the  present  case,  however,  I  believe  that  in  ascrib- 
ing to  you  the  enjoyment  of  mental  attributes  of  a 
superior  order,  and  an  equability  of  temper  which  is 
as  rare  as  it  is  engaging 

JOSEPHA. 

[Looking  up  at  him  piteously.]  Are  you  speak- 
ing now  for  Mr.  Woodhouse  or  for  yourself  ? 

STULKELEY. 

[With  someYieat.]  No,  no;  I've  told  you,  I've 
done  with  Woodhouse.  You  can't  have  been  follow- 
ing me.  [Off  the  line.]  Er — you've  thrown  me  out 
— an  equability  of  temper — [recovering  himself] 
which  is  as  rare  as  it  is  engaging 

JOSEPHA. 
[Bursting  into  tears.]     Oh!    Ho,  ho,  ho,  no! 

STULKELEY. 
Josepha ! 

JOSEPHA. 

Oh,  how  unlucky  I  am ! 


256  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

STULKELEY. 
Unlucky ! 

JOSEPHA. 

Oh,  I  thought  I  was  in  harbour  again,  and  now 
this  has  cropped  up  !• 

STULKELEY. 
[Agitatedly.]     This  has  cropped  up! 

JOSEPHA. 

[Rising  and  walking  away  to  the  left.]  Ah,  only 
last  night,  before  I  got  into  bed,  I  went  down  on 
my  hands  and  knees  and  put  my  lips  to  the  carpet ! 

STULKELEY. 
To  the  carpet ! 

JOSEPHA. 
The  carpet  of  my  beautiful,  snug,  cosy  room. 

STULKELEY. 
In  heaven's  name,  why  the  carpet  ? 

JOSEPHA. 

Out  of  gratitude  for  finding  myself  in  your  care, 
and  your  sister's!  [Sinking  into  a  chair.]  And 
now  I'm  adrift  once  more.  Oh !  Oh !  Oh  !  How 
unlucky  I  am ! 

STULKELEY. 
[Distressed.]     Josepha — 

JOSEPHA. 
Oh,  don't ! 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  257 

STULKELEY. 

Even  if  I  am  unacceptable  to  you,  you  can  con- 
tinue to  kiss  your  present  carpet  until  some  more 
fortunate  individual — Woodhouse  or  another 

JOSEPHA. 

[Sitting  upright,  sobbing.]     How  c-c-can  I? 

STULKELEY. 

It  seems  to  me  to  be  sheer  waste;  but  what's  to 
prevent  your  doing  so  ? 

JOSEPHA. 

S-s-suppose — s-s-suppose  Miss  Stulkeley  came  to 
know  that  you — that  you ! 

STULKELEY. 
Came  to  know !     She  does  know. 

JOSEPHA. 

Does  she!  [Opening  her  eyes  widely.]  And 
about  little  Mr.  Woodhouse  also? 

STULKELEY. 
Tsch!     [Sourly.]     And  about  him  also. 

JOSEPHA. 
And  about  the  drawing  lots? 

STULKELEY. 
She  assisted  at  it. 


258  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

JOSEPHA. 

[Rising,  her  face  clearing.]  Oh,  and  that's  why 
she's  gone  out  alone  this  morning ! 

STULKELEY. 
[Coming  to  her.]     Certainly. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Looking  at  the  piece  of  paper  which  is  still  in 
her  hand — falteringly.]  And  was  she — pleased — or 
angry — when  you — drew  this  ? 

STULKELEY. 

Pleased.  [Hopefully.]  I've  never  seen  a  woman 
exhibit  so  much  satisfaction. 

JOSEPHA. 
[Shrewdly.]     Oh,  but  you  didn't  draw  it.    I  did. 

STULKELEY. 

As  my  cousin  had  drawn  the  losing  number, 
there  was  no  necessity 

JOSEPHA. 

[Nodding.]  Ah,  no;  of  course.  [With  a  light, 
tender  laugh.]  Ho,  ho  !  Poor  little  man  !  [Eyeing 
STULKELEY  askance.]  But  his  turn'll  come  won't 
it? 

STULKELEY. 
[Chilled.]     By-and-by. 

JOSEPHA. 
[Meditatively.]    Ah,  he's  been  such  a  brick  to  me. 


PRESERVING  MR,  PANMURE  259 

STULKELEY. 
[Breathing  hard.]     A-a-a  brick? 

JOSEPHA. 

A  trump !    That  was  fine  of  him — his  sacrificing 
himself  for  me  at  The  Clewers — wasn't  it? 

STULKELEY. 
[Wretchedly.]     Er — extremely. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Softly,  drying  her  eyes.]     Was  he  very  crushed 
just  now,  when  he  fished  out  the  wrong  number? 

STULKELEY. 

Crushed!     Literally!      [With  malice.]     A  most 
ludicrous  business — his  hand  got  stuck  in  the  vase. 

JOSEPHA. 

Got  stuck  in  the  vase ! 

STULKELEY. 
Stuck  fast. 

JOSEPHA. 
[Unable  to  restrain  her  merriment.]     No! 

STULKELEY. 
We  had  the  greatest  difficulty — Joan  and  I 

JOSEPHA. 

Ho,  ho,  ho  !    How  did  you ?    Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

STULKELEY. 
I  tugged  at  the  vase,  Joan  pulled  at  his  elbow 


260  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

JOSEPHA. 

[In  a  fit  of  laughter.]     Ho,  ho,  ho,  ho,  ho ! 

v  STULKELEY. 

[Enjoying  his  success.]  Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha!  [Tak- 
ing her  hand  and  stroking  it.]  That's  why  I  re- 
marked that  your  perfect  little  hand 

JOSEPHA. 
Ho,  ho  !    I  wondered ! Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha ! 

STULKELEY. 
Ha,  ha,  ha !—         [Suddenly.]     Sssh ! 

[She  sobers  herself  instantly  as  STUKELEY 
slowly  turns  his  head  in  the  direction  of 
the  folding-doors. 

JOSEPHA. 
[In  a  whisper.]     What ? 

STULKELEY. 

[To  JOSEPHA,  dropping  his  voice.]  Did  you  hear 
anything  ? 

JOSEPHA. 
[Shaking  her  head.]     No. 

STULKELEY. 
[  Gravely.  ]     Josepha 

JOSEPHA. 
Eh? 


> 


4 

PRESERVING  MR.  PAN  MURE  261 

STULKELEY. 

Surely  my  cousin  Talbot  has  not  been  so  despic- 
ably mean ! 

JOSEPHA. 

Mean ? 

STULKELEY. 

As  to  creep  into  that  room •! 

JOSEPHA. 
[Shocked.]     Oh,  no! 

STULKELEY. 
And  put  his  ear  to  the  keyhole ! 

JOSEPHA. 
[Suppressing  a  whistle.]    Whew-w-w ! 

STULKELEY. 

The  understanding  was  that  he,  too,  was  to  take 
the  air. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Sharply.]  Go  on  talking.  [In  a  high  voice, 
moving  to  the  writing-table.]  What  brilliant 
weather  we're  having,  aren't  we? 

STULKELEY. 
[Watching  her  in  astonishment.]     Delightful. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Taking  a  long  quill-pen  from  the  inkstand.]  We 
generally  get  a  blue  sky  and  plenty  of  sunshine  after 
snow,  don't  we? 


262  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

STULKELEY. 
It's  not — ah — unusual. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Edging  towards  the  folding -doors,  humming  dis- 
cordantly.} Tra,  la,  la,  la !  [Giving  STULKE- 
LEY a  mischievous  look.]  Tra,  la !  [Introduc- 
ing the  end  of  the  pen  into  the  keyhole.]  Tra,  la, 

la ! 

STULKELEY. 

Josey ! 

JOSEPHA. 

Ha,  ha!  [Thrusting  the  pen  through  the  key- 
hole.] Ha,  ha,  ha !  [There  is  a  sound  from 

the  adjoining  room  as  of  the  overturning  of  a  chair.] 
Oh! 

STULKELEY. 
[Going  to  her.]    What  have  you  done? 

JOSEPHA. 
[Horrified.]     Oh,  why  didn't  you  stop  me! 

[She  is  about  to  unlock  the  centre  leaf  of  the 
folding-doors  when  GRANT,  a  man- 
servant, enters,  carrying  a  salver  upon 
which  is  a  heap  of  visiting  cards. 
JOSEPHA  retreats  to  the  fireplace  a$ 
STULKELEY  examines  the  cards. 

STULKELEY. 

[Talcing  up  the  cards  indiscriminately,  one  by 
one.]  Mrs.  Panmure — Miss  Anstice — Mr.  Hebble- 
thwaite— Mr.  Panmure — Mr.  Hugh.  Loring — Mrs. 
Hebblethwaite — Mr.  Panmure — Mr.  Hebblethwaite 
—Mrs.  Panmure — Mr.  Hugh  Loring — Mrs.  Hebble- 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  263 

thwaite— Miss     Anstice—  [To     GRANT,     be- 
wildered.]    They're  not ? 

GRANT. 
Yessir;  downstairs,  sir. 

STULKELEY. 

All ? 

GRANT. 

Several,  sir.  I  said  Miss  Stulkeley's  out  walk- 
ing, sir ;  but  they'd  like  to  see  you  and  Miss  Quaren- 
don,  and  Mr.  Woodhouse. 

STULKELEY. 
[After  a  glance  at  JOSEPHA.]     Oh — show  them 

up.    Grant 

GRANT. 
[At  the  door.]     Yessir? 

STULKELEY. 
Has  Mr.  Woodhouse  gone  out  again? 

GRANT. 
B'lieve  not,  sir.    His  hat's  in  the  hall. 

STULKELEY. 
[Grimly.]     Find  him. 

GRANT. 

Yessir. 

[GRANT  withdraws,  with  the  salver  and  cards, 
as  JOSEPHA  throws  the  pen  into  the  fire 
and  comes  to  STULKELEY. 


264  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

JOSEPHA. 

What  an  odd  call ! 

STULKELEY. 
Call !    It's  a  Conference ! 

JOSEPHA. 

[Clinging  to  STULKELEY' s  arm.]  They  haven't 
come  to  ask  me  to  go  back  to  The  Clewers,  have 
they? 

STULKELEY. 
[Soothingly.]     No,  no. 

JOSEPHA. 

I  adore  Lottie;  [shuddering]  but  Mr.  Pan- 
mure ! 

STULKELEY. 

[Hurriedly.]  Josey — before  these  people  appear 
— if  you  could  give  me  a  word  of  encourage- 
ment  ! 

JOSEPHA. 

Encouragement  ? 

STULKELEY. 

Tell  me  that  I  may  hope 

JOSEPHA. 

Hope!  [Repulsing  him.]  When  perhaps  you've 
made  me  hurt  that  little  hero ! 

[The  door  re-opens  and  GRANT  ushers  in 
MRS.  PANMURE,  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE, 
HEBBLETHWAITE,  PANMURE,  DULCIE, 
and  LORING.  MRS.  PANMURE'S  expres- 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  265 

sion  is  very  glum,  but  PANMURE  has  a 
smug,  sanctified  air.  The  others  seem 
to  be  on  excellent  terms  with  themselves, 
the  HEBBLETHWAITES  looking  particu- 
larly contented  and  jolly.  GRANT  re- 
tires, closing  the  door. 

STULKELEY. 

[Shaking  hands  with  MRS.  PANMURE.  1  My 
sister  will  be  very  sorry.  [Shaking  hands  with  MRS. 
HEBBLETHWAITE.]  How  do  you  do? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Going  to  JOSEPHA,  coldly.]  How  are  you, 
Josepha  ? 

JOSEPHA. 

[Kissing  MRS.  PANMURE,  shyly.]  How  are  you, 
Lottie?  [MRS.  PANMURE  accepts  JOSEPHA' s  *kiss 
unresponsively  and  moves  to  the  fireplace  as 
JOSEPHA  shakes  hands  with  MRS.  HEBBLE- 
THWAITE.] How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Hebblethwaite  ? 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Loftily,  turning  away  to  the  settee  on  the  left.] 
Thank  you ;  I  am  in  perfect  health. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[After  greeting  STULKELEY.]  Coming  down  on 
you  like  an  avalanche,  hey?  [Seeing  JOSEPHA.] 

Ah,  and  here's  little  Miss  Jo ! 

[lie  is  about  to  shake  hands  with  her  when 
he  thinks  better  of  it  and,  nodding  to 
JOSEPHA,  joins  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 


266  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

PANMURE,  who  has  been  received  in  a 
distant  manner  by  STULKELEY,  ap- 
proaches JOSEPHA  while  STULKELEY  is 
shaking  hands  with  DULCIE  and  LOR- 
ING. 

PANMURE. 

{To  JOSEPHA,  in  an  oily  tone.]     I  trust  you  are 
1,  Miss  Quareridon — [she  gives  him  a  limp  hand] 
and   happy — oh,   happy — in   your   new,    temporary 
home. 

JOSEPHA. 
Exceedingly. 

PANMURE. 

We  are  all  much  happier  than  when  we  saw  you 
last. 

[He   moves   away   as   DULCIE   advances    to 
JOSEPHA  and  proffers  a  finger. 

DULCIE. 
[To  JOSEPHA.]     How  d'ye  do? 

LORING. 

[On  the  left,  nodding  to  JOSEPHA.]  HowVyer, 
Miss  Quareiidon? 

STULKELEY. 

[To  everybody.]  Pray  sit  down;  pray  sit  down. 
[MR.  and  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE  seat  themselves 
upon  the  settee  on  the  left,  DULCIE  and  LORING  in 
the  chairs  at  the  end  of  the  settee,  PANMURE  in  the 
chair  by  the  table  on  the  left,  and  JOSEPHA  upon  the 
fauteuil-stool.]  Er — my  sister  will  be  sorry. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  267 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Who  has  been  gazing  into  the  fire,  to  STULKE- 
LEY.]  Oh,  this  is  not  an  ordinary  visit  of  friend- 
ship, Mr.  Stulkeley. 

STULKELEY. 
[Puzzled.]    Xo? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

As  you  may  gather  from  the  hour  at  which  it  is 
paid.  And  as  Miss  Stulkeley  is  not  so  intimately 
connected  with  a  certain  event  as  the  rest  of  us,  it 
is  better,  in  my  opinion,  that  she  should  be  out  of 
the  way. 

STULKELEY. 

[Apprehensively.]     Dear  me ! 
MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Inquiringly.]     Is  Mr.  Woodhouse ? 

STULKELEY. 
I've  sent  for  him. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

We  won't  lose  time.  [To  PANMURE.]  Are  you 
ready,  St.  John? 

PANMURE. 

[Sanctimoniously.]  Oh,  more  than  ready;  more 
than  ready. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[To  STULKELEY.]  My  husband  is  here,  Mr.  Stul- 
keley, at  the  suggestion — at  the  command — of  Mr. 


268  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

Pruyn,  the  rector  of  Polehampton,  to  perform  an 
act  of  expiation. 

STULKELEY. 
Expiation ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

Of  self-abasement.  [Sitting  upon  the  settee  be- 
fore the  fire.]  Uncle  Alfred ? 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Clearing  his  throat.]  Ahem!  [To  STULKE- 
LEY.] The  fact  is,  Stulkeley,  that  our  friend  Pan- 
mure — my  nephew-in-law — [chuckling]  ha,  ha! — 
has  been  found  out. 

PANMURE. 

No,  no;  not  found  out.  [Casting  his  eyes  up  to 
the  ceiling.]  He  has  confessed. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Well,  he  confessed  after  he  was  found  out.  Ha, 
ha! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[Shivering.]     Oh,  please  don't  laugh,  uncle. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[To  MRS.  PANMURE.]  Your  uncle  is  a  fluent 
speaker,  Lottie,  if  he  is  allowed  his  own  methods. 

STULKELEY. 

[Sitting  in  the  chair  at  the  writing-table.]  Con- 
fessed ! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
To  being  the  chap  who  kissed  Miss  Quarendon. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  269 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Emphatically.]     Who  kissed  Miss  Quarendon. 

DULCIE. 
Kissed  Miss  Quarendon. 

LORING. 
Kissed  Miss  Quarendon. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Involuntarily  giving  a  shrill,  prolonged  whistle.] 
Whew-w-w-w ! 

[The  men  are  startled,  the  women  look  at 
JOSEPHA  indignantly. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Josepha ! 

JOSEPHA. 
[Clapping  her  hand  to  her  mouth.]     Oh,  my ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Her  head  bowed.]  Yes,  it  was  my  husband  who 
kissed  Josepha. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Chuckling  again.]  Ha,  ha  !  Kissed  little  Jo — ! 
[Finding  his  wife's  eye  upon  him.]  Kissed  Miss 
Quarendon. 

PANMURE. 

Yielded  to  temptation.  [Looking  around.]  Oh, 
beware  of  temptation,  boys.  Stulkeley — Hughie — 
[pointedly]  Alfred— 


270  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Bristling.]  You  needn't  lay  such  stress  on 
Alfred,  St.  John. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Nudging  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE  affectionately.] 
Ha,  old  lady ! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Slipping  her  arm  through  HEBBLETHWAITE'S.] 
Alfred  has  never  given  me  a  moment's  anxiety ;  and 
never  will. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Patting  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE'S  hand  and  then 
rising  and  going  to  STULKELEY.]  You  see,  what's 
occurred  is  this.  Kitts,  the  footman 

LORING. 

[Who  has  been  preparing  himself  for  an  oratorical 
effort.]  Er — ah — before  Hebblethwaite  goes  any 
further — I — er 

DULCIE. 
[To  LORING,  fondly.]    What  is  it,  old  thing? 

LORING. 

Before  Heblethwaite  goes  any  further,  I  want  it 
to  be  clearly  understood  that,  though  I've  consented 
to  be  present  at  this  act  of — what-d'ye-call-it,  him 
and  me  are  not  on  friendly  terms. 

DULCIE. 
[To  LORIXG.]     Him  and  me! 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  271 

LORING. 

Er — I  and  him. 

DULCIE. 
[Prompting  LORING.]     Hebblethwaite  and  I 

LORING. 
Are  not  on  friendly  terms. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Pacifically.]  Oh,  come,  Loring!  Come,  come, 
come,  come ! 

LORING. 

[To  HEBBLETHWAITE,  wagging  his  head.]  No, 
no;  not  after  the  way  you  tried  to  land  me  in  the 
ditch  over  Miss  Quarendon. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[To  LORING.]     Oh,  Mr.  Loring ! 

LORING. 

[Obstinately.]  No,  no;  it  ain't  no  good,  Mrs. 
Heb.  As 'the  sayin'  goes,  the  relations  between  me 
and  Hebblethwaite  are  sprained;  and  I'm  not  the 
sort 

DULCIE. 
[To  LORING.]     Strained. 

LORING. 
[To  DULCIE.]     Hey? 

DULCIE. 
Strained. 


272  PRESERVING  MR.  PAN  MURE 

LORING. 

What'dlsay? 

DULCIE. 

You  said  your  relations  are  sprained. 

LORING. 
Oh?    Ain't  much  difference,  is  there? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Go  on,  uncle. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Shrugging  his  shoulders  good-humour  edly.] 
Well,  this  is  what's  occurred,  Stulkeley.  Kitts,  the 
footman,  was  passing  the  hall  door  on  that  mem- 
orable Wednesday  afternoon,  and  he  heard  the 
smashing  of  china. 

PANMURE. 

It  was  a  plate  she  shied  at  me,  Stulkeley.  Miss 
Quarendon  aimed  a  plate  at  me;  [to  JOSEPHA] 
didn't  you  ? 

JOSEPHA. 
[Under  her  breath.]     Oh! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Continuing.]  The  smashing  of  China  and  voices 
raised  above  concert-pitch;  and  the  lad  took  it  into 
his  head  to  hang  about. 

PANMURE. 

I  don't  blame  Miss  Quarendon — not  for  that;  I 
deserved  it.  It's  a  pity  it  struck  the  floor  instead  of 
hitting  me. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  273 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

And  presently  he  saw  Miss  Quarendon  coming  up- 
stairs with  a  scared  face ;  and  when  he  went  into  the 
hall,  there  was  Panmure  picking  up  the  bits  and 
shaking  all  over.  And  then  Kitts  told  the  story  to 
Mrs.  Meadows,  the  housekeeper;  and  she  goes  to 
Lottie — [addressing  STULKELEY]  to  Mrs.  Panmure 
— with  the  broken  crockery;  and  Lottie  begins  to 
put  two  and  two  together;  and  gradually  the  idea 
dawns  on  her ! 

PANMURE. 

And  then  we  had  a  chat,  Lottie  and  I ;  and  I  con- 
fessed— owned  up  like  a  man. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
H'm! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE  and  DULCIE. 
H'm! 

PANMURE. 

Oh,  the  two  or  three  days  after  that  were  dreadful. 
And  they'd  have  gone  on  being  dreadful  if  I  hadn't 
called  in  Pruyn. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

Ha,  ha  !    First-rate  fellow— Pruyn ! 
PANMURE. 

Oh,  he's  a  champion.  Alfred — boys — he's  re- 
formed me  completely. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Grinning.]     Why,  I  thought  that  Lottie ! 


274  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

PANMURE. 

Lottie  began  it,  but  Pruyn's  put  on  the  thing- 
amy— the — the — the  coping-stone. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Ha,  ha,  ha! 

PANMURE. 

No  more  selfish  indulgences,  with  the  poor  sitting 
at  my  gates !  No  more1  foul  and  expensive  cigars ! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Knocked  you  off  your  smoking ! 

PANMURE. 

Oh,  boys,  the  pleasure  of  being  knocked  off  your 
smoking!  [Ecstatically.]  No  more  alcoholic 
liquids ! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Good  lord ! 

PANMURE. 

Oh,  Alfred,  the  clearness  of  the  brain  of  a  total 
abstainer ! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[With  a  wry  face.]     I  dare  say. 

PANMURE. 

[Humbly.]  All  the  same,  though,  he's  stopped 
my  preaching  for  the  future,  Pruyn  has. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
No  more  sermonettes ! 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  275 

PANMURE. 

No.  [To  JOSEPHA,  reproachfully.]  I  gave  him  a 
full  account  of  our  discourse  on  St.  Polycarp,  Miss 
Quarendon. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE  and  DULCIE. 

[Looking  severely  at  JOSEPHA.]     Ah  ! 

/ 
PANMURE. 

And  the  awful  catastrophe  it  ended  in. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Ha,  ha,  ha ! 

PANMURE. 

Lottie's  thinking  of  making  a  clean  sweep  of  the 
servants  at  the  Clewers  and  getting  in  ,a  fresh  batch ; 
[to  MRS.  PANMURE]  aren't  you,  Lottie?  [Dropping 
into  his  earlier  manner.]  Beasts !  The  old  ones 
seemed  determined  not  to  forget  that  night. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Laughing  with  HEBBLETHWAITE.]  Ha,  ha ! 
You  can  hardly  expect  them  to,  St.  John. 

PANMURE. 

[Whimpering. [  I  read  the  lessons  to  'em  now — 
common  beasts  ! — and  still  I  catch  'em  tittering. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Wiping  his  eyes.]  I  shall  never  forget  it,  / 
promise  you. 


276  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Nor  I.    Oh,  the  scene ! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Ho,  ho,  ho,  ho ! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Rolling  from  side  to  side.]     Ho,  ho,  ho ! 

LORING. 
He,  he,  he ! 

DULCIE. 

[Throwing  her  head  lade.}    Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

STULKELEY. 
[Thoughtlessly.]     Ha,  ha,  ha! 

JOSEPHA. 

[Suddenly,  in  a  loud  outburst.]     Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha! 
[While  the  mirth  is  at  its  height,  MRS.  PAN- 
MURE  starts  up  and  confronts  them. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Be  silent !    Ah,  how  can  you  ! 

[The  laughter  is  at  once  checked  and  JO- 
SEPHA rises  and  goes  to  MRS.  PANMURE. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Penitently.]     Lottie,  dear,  forgive  me  for  laugh- 
ing. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  277 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Turning  from  JOSEPHA  and  advancing  to  HEB- 
BLETHWAITE  fiercely.]  Uncle — !  [HEBBLE- 
THWAITE  retires  to  the  back  of  the  settee  on  the 
left.]  St.  John — [PANMURE  and  STULKELEY  rise.] 
we  will  catch  the  twelve-fifty  from  St.  Pancras. 
[To  STULKELEY.]  Evidently  Mr.  Woodhouse  is 
anxious  to  avoid  meeting  the  woman  he  so  wickedly 
misled.  But  my  husband  has  obeyed  the  spirit  of 
Mr.  Pruyn's  direction  that  he  should  humble  him- 
self by  making  an  admission  of  his  depravity  to  a 
gathering  of  those  principally  concerned,  and  there 
is  nothing  left  for  us  to  do  but  to  apologise  for  in- 
flicting ourselves  upon  you.  [Offering  her  hand  to 
STULKELEY  as  the  others  rise — icily.]  Good-bye. 
PANMURE. 

Oh,  but — [touching  MRS.  PANMURE'S  shoulder] 

Lottums 

MRS.  PANMURE.  ' 

[Turning  to  him.]     Yes? 

PANMURE. 

I  should  like  Stulkeley  just  to  see 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
What? 

PANMURE. 

[Tapping  his  breast  proudly.]      This,  Lottums. 
Alfred  and  Corry  haven't  seen  it  either ;  nor  Hughie. 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Compressing  her  lips.]     If  you  think  it  worth 
while 


278  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

PANMURE. 

[Beaming.]  Corry — boys — look!  [He  unbut- 
tons his  overcoat  and,  throwing  it  open  with  a  flour- 
ish, displays  the  badge  of  the  Guild  of  Fine  Souls  at- 
tached to  the  lapel  of  his  undercoat.]  Pruyn — last 
night — a  mark  of  appreciation,  b' George ! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
The  badge ! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
[Coming  forward.  ]     Badge ! 

PANMURE. 
Guild  of  Fine  Souls. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
How  very  nice ! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Bravo ! 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Examining  the  badge.]  Oh,  but  the  brooch  Lot- 
tie wore  was  gilt. 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
What's  that  made  of? 

PANMURE. 
[Sheepishly.]     Bronze,  All 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
Imitation  bronze — copper. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  279 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Copper ! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 
Why  copper? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[To  PANMURE,  Utterly.]     Tell  them. 

PANMURE. 

[Buttoning  his  overcoat,  meekly.]  It's  a  badge  of 
the  Third  Class,  boys. 

[There  is  a  general  stir.  MRS.  PANMURE 
moves  towards  the  door  while  the  others 
shake  hands  with  STULKELEY  and  bid 
him  (jood-b'je.  They  have  all  reached 
the  door  when  STULKELEY  calls  to  them. 

STULKELEY. 

Mrs.    Pannmre — Mrs.    Hebblethwaite — my    dear 

Hebblethwaite !     [Pointing  to  JOSEPHA  who  is 

leaning   dejectedly   upon    the    mantelpiece.]      Miss 
Quarendon ! 

HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Heartily.]  Confound  it,  yes!  [He  bustles  over 
to  JOSEPHA,  with  MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE  at  his 
heels,  and  wrings  her  hand.]  Good-bye,  my  dear. 
Go'blessyer. 

MRS.  HEBBLETHWAITE. 

[Pushing  HEBBLETHWAITE  aside  and  shaking 
hands  with  JOSEPHA.]  Now,  take  my  advice,  Miss 
Quarendon.  Give  up  governessing  in  private  fami- 
lies ;  you're  not  in  the  least  suited  to  it. 


28o  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

LORING. 

[Going  to  JOSEPHA,  followed  closely  by  DULCIE, 
and  shaking  hands  with  her.]  Er — ah — er 

DULCIE. 

[Elbowing  him  away  and  shaking  JOSEPHA'S 
hand.]  Get  out,  Hughie. 

PANMURE. 

[Coming  to  JOSEPHA.]  Oh,  Miss  Quarendon,  let 
this  be  a  lesson  to  us  never  to  forsake  the  straight 
for  the  crooked  path.  [Taking  her  hand.]  Let  us 
always,  on  our  journey  through  life 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Holding  out  her  arms.]     Josey ! 

JOSEPHA. 
\Sending  PANMURE,  with  a  blow  on  the  chest,  on 

to  the  settee.]     Ah!    Lottie ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 
[Tottering  to  JOSEPHA,,  weeping.]     Pm  sure  I 

don't  mean  to  be  unkind ! 

JOSEPHA. 

[Embracing  MRS.  PANMURE,  hysterically.]  Ho, 
ho,  ho  !  My  old  pal !  My  old  schoolmate !  Ho,  ho, 
ho,  ho ! 

[The  door  opens  and  WOODHOUSE  enters  with 
an  attempt  at  briskness.  He  is  wearing 
a  black  shade,  with  some  cotton-wool 
beneath  it,  over  his  right  eye,  and  there 
are  some  patches  of  court-plaster  on  his 
knuckles. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PAN  MURE  281 

STULKELEY. 
[Aghast.]     My  dear  Talbot! 

JOSEPHA. 

[Coming  forward,  in  horror.]     Oh! 

WOODHOUSE. 

Coal-dust.  Just  as  I  was  leaving  the  house — 
cart  full  of  dam  Wallsend !  Pardon.  [Adjust- 
ing his  shade.]  Joan's  maid  found  this  in  the  medi- 
cine-cupboard. 

STULKELEY  and  JOSEPHA. 
[To  each  other.]     Oh-h-h-h! 

WOODHOUSE. 

[To  MRS.  PANMURE,  extending  his  hand.]  My 
dear  Mrs.  Panmure!  [To  the  others.]  My  dear 
friends !  But  what  a  delight ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

[Not  accepting  his  hand,  sternly.}  Mr.  Wood- 
house 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Surprised.]     Eh? 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

You  will  learn  from  your  cousin  the  object  of  my 
husband's  visit,  and  why  I  and  my  relatives — if  I 
may  include  Mr.  Loring  under  that  denomination — 
why  I  and  my  relatives  have  accompanied  him. 


282  PRESERVING  MR.'.  PANMURE 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Wonderingly.]     Dear  lady! 

MES.  PANMURE. 

[With  dignity.]  Sir,  I  am  willing  to  credit  you 
with  having  been  animated  by  good  intentions,  but 
even  good  intentions  do  not  justify  the  falsehood 
and  deception  lately  practised  by  yoii  while  a  guest 
under  my  roof. 

PANMURE. 

[At  her  side.]  No,  b'George;  gentleman's  roof, 
b'George ! 

MRS.  PANMURE. 

And  there  is  an  oft-quoted   dictum   concerning 
good  intentions  which  you  would  do  well  to  ponder 
ovei  at  your  leisure.     [Glancing  at  STULKELEY  who 
is  now  on  the  left.]     How  far  Mr.  Stulkeley  was 
your  confederate — if  confederate  he  was — I  do  not 
seek  to  inquire.    I  will  content  myself  with  request- 
ing that  you  will  return  to  me,  by  registered-post, 
the  emblem  of  purity  which  you  so  impudently  ob- 
tained and  are  so  unworthy  to  wear.     [Inclining  her 
head.]    If  ever  we  meet  again,  it  will  be  as  strangers' 
[STULKELEY  opens  the  door  for  her  and  she 
passes  out.     PANMURE  winks  solemnly 
at   WOODHOUSE   and   follows   his   wife. 
Then    comes    MRS.     HEBBLETHWAITE, 
who   gives   WOODHOUSE   a  frosty   'bow, 
and  HEBBLETHWAITE  who,  with  a  silent 
chuckle,  digs  him  in  the  ribs.     LORING 
comes  next  and  pauses  to  regard  WOOD- 
HOUSE    with    scorn;    whereupon t    in    a 
fright,  WOODHOUSE  puts  his  hands  pro- 
tectingly  to  his  cheeks. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  283 

DULCIE. 

[To     LORING,     coaxingly.]       No,     not     to-day, 
Hughie. 

[Sniffing  at  WOODHOUSE,  she  pushes  LORING 
before  her  and  they  go  out,  followed  by 
STULKELEY. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[As   the   door  closes.]      Vulgar  crew!     Vulgar 
crew  !    Devil  take 


JOSEPHA. 
[Coming  to  him.]     Oh,  Mr.  Woodhouse,  it's  out! 

WOODHOUSE. 
So  I  conclude.    Devil  take  'em  ! 

JOSEPHA. 
Mr.  Panmure  has  confessed  everything. 

WOODHOUSE. 

Glad  of  it.  Nasty  slap  for  your  saintly  friend. 
[Crossing  to  the  fireplace.]  To  dare  to  address  me 
in  those  terms  !  If  a  man  presumed  to  speak  to  me 
like  that,  I  —  I  —  I'd  write  him  such  a  letter. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Sitting  upon  the  settee  on  the  left.]  Poor  Lot- 
tie. Oh,  poor  Lottie  ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Composing  himself.]  Anyhow,  my  dear  Miss 
Quarendon,  I  did  my  best  to  avert  the  ugly  dis- 
closure. 


284  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

JOSEPHA. 

[Gratefully.]  Ah,  yes;  it  was  tremendously  noble 
of  you. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Grandly.]  No;  [advancing]  because — I  admit 
it — the  act  was  not  wholly  a  disinterested  one  on 
my  part.  [Halting  in  the  middle  of  the  room.] 
Josepha — Josey — even  then  the  seed  which  has 
since  blossomed  into  a  flower  had  begun  to  ger- 
minate in  my  breast. 

JOSEPHA. 
[TTO/t  a  sickly  expression.]     Oh! 

WOODHOUSE. 

Yes,  as  you  have  doubtless  already  gathered  from 
another  source,  I  love  you. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Wearily.]     Mr.  Stulkeley  has  mentioned 

WOODHOUSE. 

He  was  bound  in  honour  to  do  so.  [Coming 
nearer.]  Josey,,  I  am  not  blind  to  the  fact  that  a 
paltry  secretaryship,  a  settled  income  of  barely 
twelve-hundred-a-year,  and  the  possession  of  a  few 
rubber  shares— for  the  moment  less  elastic  than  you 
would  infer  from  the  nature  of  the  substance  they 
represent — I  am  not,  I  say,  blind  to  the  fact  that  my 
financial  position  compares  unfavourably  with  my 

cousin  Reggie's.     On  the  other  hand 

JOSEPHA. 
[Raising  her  eyes,  appealingly .]     Oh,  must  you? 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  285 

WOODIIOUSE. 

On  the  other  hand,  I  have  the  advantage  of  youth, 
a  taste  for  literature  and  the  arts,  the  power — de- 
veloped to  a  remarkable  pitch — of  playing  by  ear 
the  current  popular  melodies  on  the  piano,  and  the 
reputation — not,  if  I  may  say  so,  ill-deserved — of 
being  an  amusing  raconteur.  The  two  latter  quali- 
fications have  gained  for  me  a  considerable  place  in 
what  survives  in  this  country  of  refined  society ;  and 
I  cannot  but  think  that,  with  a  wife  endowed,  in  a 
measure,  with  modest  but  attractive  gifts  similar  to 
my  own — [noticing  that  she  is  observing  him  with  a 
twitching  face}  eh?  [Inquiringly.}  Did  you — ? 
[She  covers  her  mouth  with  her  handkerchief  con- 
vulsively. }  What ? 

JOSEPHA.  * 

[Her  shoulders  heaving.}     Oh!    Oh!    Oh! 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Alarmed.}     MydearJosey! 

JOSEPHA. 
Ho,  ho,  ho ! 

WOODHOUSE. 
Darling ! 

JOSEPHA. 

Oh  !    Oh !    Oh,  how  funny  you  look ! 

WOODHOUSE. 
Funny ! 

JOSEPHA. 

[Rising}  Ho,  ho,  ho!  [Pointing  at  him.} 
That  dam  Wallsend ! 


286  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Laughing  constrainedly.]     Ha,  ha !     Ha,  ha  ! 
JOSEPHA. 

Ha,  ha,  ha ! 

[They  join  hands  and  are  laughing  together 
in  their  different  moods  when  STULKE- 
LEY  returns. 

STULKELEY. 

[Indignantly.]  Talbot!  [ JOSEPHA  and  WOOD- 
HOUSE  separate  and  STULKELEY  comes  between 
them.]  What  are  you  doing! 

WOODHOUSE. 
Go  away,  Eeggie. 

STULKELEY. 

Go  away !  My  dear  fellow,  I've  not  nearly  fin- 
ished with  Miss  Quarendon. 

WOODHOUSE. 

I  can't  help  it.  [Referring  to  his  watch.]  You 
have  had  twenty-three  minutes,  to  a  second. 

STULKELEY. 
That  troublesome  Mrs.  Panmure 

WOODHOUSE. 

No  fault  of  mine.  I  must  beg  you  to  leave  the 
room. 

STULKELEY. 
[T'o  JOSEPHA.]     Miss  Quarendon 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  287 

WOODHOUSE. 

[To  STULKELEY.]  You  had  at  least  ten  minutes 
before  the  Panmure  tribe  arrived. 

STULKELEY. 

[To  JOSEPHA.]     I  appeal  to  you 

WOODHOUSE. 

Any  man  who  can't  propose  to  a  lady  in  ten  min- 
utes  

STULKELEY. 

[Taking  JOSEPHA'S  left  hand.]     Josepha 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Taking  her  right  hand.]     Josey 

[She  releases  herself  laughingly  and  retreats 
to  the  back  of  the  room. 

STULKELEY. 
[To  WOODHOUSE.]     Upon  my  word,  Talbot ! 

WOODHOUSE. 
Really,  my  dear  Reggie ! 

STULKELEY. 
[Sitting  upon  the  settee  on  the  left.]     I  remain. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Also  sitting  upon  the  settee.]  And  I.  [Find- 
ing himself  beside  STULKELEY,  lie  rises  and  reseats 
himself  in  the  chair  farthest  from  the  end  of  the 
settee.]  I  remain. 

[There  is  a  pause  and  then  JOSEPHA  turns 
slowly  and  comes  forward. 


288  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

JOSEPHA. 

[Thoughtfully.]  Mr.  Stulkeley — [STTJLKELEY 
rises.] — Mr.  Woodhouse — [WooDHOUSE  jumps  up. 
She  looks  at  them  sweetly]  boys}  as  Mr.  Panmure 
calls  you — you've  both  been  awfully  kind  to  me. 

STULKELEY  and  WOODHOUSE. 

[In  acknowledgment,}     Oh ! 

JOSEPHA. 

[Her  hand  to  her  brow.]  And  it's  difficult,  isn't 
it — without  saying  No  to  the  two  of  you ? 

STULKELEY  and  WOODHOUSE. 

[Moving  a  step  towards  her.]     Ah ! 

JOSEPHA. 

It's  difficult  to  decide  what  answer  to  make. 
[A per  another  pause,  abruptly.}  Look  here! 
[Again  they  take  a  step  towards  her.  She  faces 
them  deliberately.]  Draw  lots  for  me. 

STULKELEY. 
My  dear  Miss  Quarendon ! 

WOODHOUSE. 
My  dear  young  lady ! 

JOSEPHA. 

Why,  you've  already  drawn  lots  for  the  privilege 
of  being  first  to  propose.  [To  WOODHOUSE.]  Mr. 
Stulkeley  told  me  so,  Mr.  Woodhouse. 

WOODHOUSE. 
Shameful  breach  of  confidence. 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  289 

STULKELEY. 
[To  WOODHOUSE.]     Talbot ! 

JOSEPHA. 

So  why  hesitate  to  go  a  step  further  ? 

STULKELEY. 
[Agitatedly.}     No,  no,  no;  impossible! 

JOSEPHA. 
Why? 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Crossing    to    the    fireplace.]       I    couldn't;    I 
couldn't. 

JOSEPHA. 
Why  not? 

WOODHOUSE. 
Most  unseemly. 

STULKELEY. 
[Pacing  the  room  on  the  left.]    Most  unseemly. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Facing  JOSEPHA.]      Not  only  is   it  unseemly, 
but — but — but — but  I  might  lose  again  ! 

STULKELEY. 
Or  I.     [Firmly.]     No.    No,  no. 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Shaking  his  head]     No.    No,  no,  no. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Shrugging  her  shoulders.]     Well,  as  you  please! 
[She    darts    to    the    door,    and    they    after 
her. 


2QO  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

STULKELEY. 

[Preventing  her  from  opening  the  door.}     Jo- 

sepha ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

Josey ! 

JOSEPHA. 

[Looking  from  one  to  the  other.]  Shall  I  pre- 
pare the  bits  of  paper?  [The  men  hold  their  heads 
and  groan.]  Shall  I? 

STULKELEY  and  WOODHOUSE. 
[Helplessly.]     Oh!    Oh! 

JOSEPHA. 

Ha,  ha,  ha !  [She  runs  to  the  writing-table  and, 
seating  herself  there,  tears  two  strips  from  a  sheet 
of  paper.]  The  vase  ! 

[WOODHOUSE  brings  the  vase  from  the  cab- 
inet at  the  back,  STULKELEY  the  vase 
from  the  console-table,  and  the  two  men 
meet  in  the  middle  of  the  room. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Pointing  to  the  vase  which  STULKELEY  is  carry- 
ing, with  great  indignation.]  Reggie ! 

STULKELEY. 

My  clear  fellow,  so  it  is!  [Hastily  replacing  the 
vase  upon  the  console-table.]  I  sincerely  beg  your 
pardon. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Following  STULKELEY.]  Did  you  select  that  ac- 
cursed jar  designedly? 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  291 

STULKELEY. 
[Coming  to  WOODHOUSE.]     I  swear  to  you,  my 

dear  Talbot ! 

WOODHOUSE. 
Singular  forgetfulness ! 

STULKELEY. 

[Taking  WOODIIOUSE'S  vase  from  him.]  Try  it. 
[WOODHOUSE  cautiously  inserts  his  hand  in  the 
vase.]  Do,  pray,  be  careful.  • 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Several  times  repeating  the  process  of  dipping 
his  hand  into  the  vase — coldly.]  Thank  you  for 
your  courtesy. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Who,  glancing  more  than  once  over  her  shoul- 
der at  the  men,  has  written  upon  the  slips  of  paper 
and  hurriedly  folded  them.]  Yase! 

[STULKELEY  carries  the  vase  to  JOSEPHA 
while  WOODHOUSE,  with  a  look  of  re- 
solve f  turns  up  his  shirt-cuff.  JOSEPHA 
rises  and  drops  the  pieces  of  paper 
singly  into  the  vase. 

STULKELEY. 
[To  JOSEPHA.]     What  have  you  written? 

WOODHOUSE. 
[To  JOSEPHA.]     What  have  you  written? 

JOSEPHA. 
[Faintly.]     "  Lucky  man/' 


2Q2  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

STULKELEY. 

"  Lucky  man  " ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

"  Lucky  man  "  I 

STULKELEY. 
[Quaking.]     "Lucky  man"  wins  you? 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Excitably.]     "Lucky  man"  wins  you? 

JOSEPHA. 
[Almost  inaudibly,  nodding.]     Yes. 

STULKELEY  and  WOODHOUSE. 
[Drawing  a  deep  breath.]     Ah-h-h-h! 

JOSEPHA. 

[Talcing  the  vase  from  STULKELEY  tremblingly.] 
I'll  hold  the  vase.  [STULKELEY  is  pulling  up  his 
coat-sleeve  when  WOODHOUSE  presses  forward  and  is 
about  to  thrust  his  hand  into  the  vase.]  Ah,  no ! 

WOODHOUSE. 
No? 

JOSEPHA. 
N-no-no;  M-M-Mr.  Stulkeley  d-draws  first. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Stiffly.]  By  all  means.  [Retiring  to  the  fur- 
ther side  of  the  writing-table.]  I  yield  to  my 
cousin's  decided  seniority. 

[Controlling  himself  with  difficulty,  STUL- 
KELEY dips  his  hand  into  the  vase  and 
extracts  one  of  the  slips  of  paper. 

STULKELEY. 

[Unfolding  it  with  quivering  fingers.]  I — I 
can't — !  It — it  won't — !  [Uttering  a  cry.]  Ah! 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  293 

WOODHOUSE. 

What ? 

STULKELEY. 
«  Lucky  man"! 

WOODHOUSE. 
Dash ! 

[WOODHOUSE  walks  about  furiously.  Jo- 
SEPHA  places  the  vase  upon  the  writing- 
table  and,  sinking  upon  the  fauteuil- 
stool,  covers  her  face  with  her  hands. 

STULKELEY. 

[Unsteadily.]  Lucky  man!  [Sitting  upon  the 
settee  on  the  left,  overcome  by  emotion.]  Lucky 
man! 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Regaining  his  composure — to  STULKELEY.] 
Well,  I — ha ! — I  offer  you  my  warm  felicitations, 
my  dear  Reggie. 

STULKELEY. 
[Sympathetically.]     Oh,  my  dear  Talbot ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Finding  himself  at  the  writing -table  again  and 
putting  his  hand  into  the  vase  mechanically.]  Fe- 
licitations which  I  hope  Miss  Quarendon  will  not 
disdain  to  share. 

JOSEPHA. 

[  Whimpering.  ]     Oh  !    Oh  ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

As  for  me — without  wishing  to  disturb  your  hap- 
piness—  [drawing  out  the  second  piece  of  paper  and 
unfolding  it  unconsciously]  as  for  me,  my  life,  my 
career,  are  as  blank — as  blank  as  this 


294  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

[He  breaks  off,  staring  at  the  paper.  Rais- 
ing her  head,  and  turning  it  quickly, 
JOSEPHA  realises  what  has  happened 
and,  with  a  gasp,  starts  up  and  rushes 
at  WOODHOUSE. 

JOSEPHA. 

Ah,  no!  Don't!  You  mustn't!  [Seeing  that 
she  is  too  late.]  Oh  I 

WOODHOUSE. 

"Lucky  man"!  [STULKELEY  rises,  appalled. 
WOODHOUSE  looks  at  JOSEPHA.]  "  L-1-lucky 
man"? 

JOSEPHA. 

[Her  chin  on  her  breast.]     Yes,  but 

WOODHOUSE. 

But ? 

JOSEPHA. 

[With  a  motion  of  her  head  towards  STULKE- 
LEY.] He — he  drew  it  first. 

WOODHOUSE. 
[After  a  pause.]     I — I  understand. 

[STULKELEY  goes  quietly  to  JOSEPHA, 
touches  her  arm,  and  then  retires  to  the 
back. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Moving  away  from  WOODHOUSE,  crying.]  Ho, 
ho,  ho!  Oh,  Mr.  Wocdhouse,  I  d-d-didn't  want  to 
wound  your  feelings  by  refusing  you.  I  t-t-thought 
it  would  make  it  easier  for  you  if  you  believed  you 
had  lost  me  by  chance.  [Turning  to  WOODHOUSE, 
who  has  followed  her,  and  taking  his  hand.]  For- 
give me.  [He  sighs  heavily.]  Who  knows!  Per- 


PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE  295 

haps,  after  all,  the  real  lucky  man  is  the  man  I 
don .  t  marry. 

WOODHOUSE. 

[In  a  gloomy  voice.]     A  quibble. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Pressing  his  hand  to  her  heart. ]  Yes,  forgive 
me  and  forget  me.  Go  abroad  for  a  time — be  a 

great  traveller — a  discoverer ! 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Withdrawing  his  hand.]  Ha  !  How  easy  it  is  to 
talk!  [Bitterly.]  The  only  spot  on  earth  left  to 
be  discovered  is  the  end  of  the  Cromwell  Road. 

[He  leaves  her,  and  she  sits  at  the  writing- 
table  and,  with  her  elbows  upon  it,  leans 
her  head  upon  her  hands. 

JOSEPHA. 
[Dejectedly.]     Oh!    Oh! 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Pausing,  on  his  way  to  the  door,  at  the  table  on 
the  left,  and  addressing  STULKELEY  who  is  now  at 
the  fireplace.]  Reggie,  I  fancied  I  detected  you,  a 
little  while  ago,  in  an  attempt  to  purloin  my  latch- 
key. 

[He  produces  his  key-ring  and  detaches  a 
key  from  it. 

STULKELEY. 
[Hurrying  to  him.]     My  dear  fellow! 

WOODHOUSE. 
[Laying  the  key  upon  the  table.]     There  it  is. 

STULKELEY. 
I  insist  on  your  retaining  it. 


296  PRESERVING  MR.  PANMURE 

WOODHOUSE. 

[Going  to  the  door,  haughtily.]     No. 
STULKELEY. 

Talbot ! 

WOODHOUSE. 
No. 

STULKELEY. 
I  entreat! 

WOODHOUSE. 

No.  No,  no.  [His  hand  on  the  door-handle.] 
Besides,  I  have  a  duplicate.  [He  departs,  closing 
the  door. 

STULKELEY. 
[Turning  to  JOSEPHA  with  outstretched  arms.] 

Josepha ! 

She  rises  and  goes  to  him  and  he,  putting 
his  arms  about  her,  kisses  her  raptur- 
ously. 

JOSEPHA. 

[Releasing  herself  and,  with  a  pout,  drawing  her 
hand  across  her  lips.]  Oh,  men  will  kiss  me! 

[The  door  is  thrown  open  and  Miss  STUL- 
KELEY, in  her  outdoor  things,  enters 
excitedly. 

Miss  STULKELEY. 

[Panting.]  Tell  me!  Which  is  it?  [To  JO- 
SEPHA.] Josepha !  [  JOSEPHA  advances  to  her.] 
Talbot  or  Eeginald? 

JOSEPHA. 

[Dropping  her  head  upon  Miss  STULKELEY' s 
bosom.]  I — I — I  suppose  it's  Reginald, 

THE   END, 


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